


Hygge

by seaofolives



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: 30 Days of Writing, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother Feels, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Gen, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-09 03:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 23,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12879174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaofolives/pseuds/seaofolives
Summary: Post-Thor: Ragnarok AU where Thanos didn't crash the party and Asgard made it to Earth and Thor and Loki are re-learning being brothers.





	1. Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically an excuse to a) write the Odinsons because I love them and b) to do a [30-day challenge](http://writing-prompts-list.tumblr.com/post/82176262937/30-days-of-writing) for December. If you've come here looking for Thorki, turn back, this is not the fic you're looking for. This fic will also not include characters that are not in Thor: Ragnarok.

Thor had told him a few days back that it was a “semi-furnished three-bedroom suite” at the “7th floor” with “two bathrooms, a washer, a dryer, 24/7 security system and a spectacular view of the central business district.” When Loki had asked him what that all meant, his brother only beamed at him and said, “Ahh, you’ll see. It’ll be great! It says here in the brochure it’s charming.”

Standing in the middle of the cream living room, with round, plush seats, a burgundy patterned carpet under a low glass table, a black mirror of sorts (later on, he would discover it was called a television set), and windows that looked out to depressingly gray, silver and equally monotonous towers, Loki still didn’t understand Thor’s words. He scanned the white cornices bordering the appallingly plain ceiling overhead while Thor was in the kitchen, thundering, “Yeah, and there’s a washer. And a dryer and uhh...oh I think this one’s the dryer. Uhh...ahh, and a refrigerator! I know this, Daryll and Stark each have one of these…”

He’d only moved far enough to play with the light switches when Thor finally reappeared over his shoulder, dressed as always in a combination of a jacket, a shirt, a pair of jeans and some good boots that all looked a bit too worn for a man of Thor’s standing—or as his brother would put it, _well-loved_. Loki, in a sleek, black Midgardian suit as was his preference, him being a royal prince of a great people, had no idea where he’d picked that word up from.

“So?” his brother asked, gazing about, his one eye sparkling, the other covered still by an eyepatch, but now with a string around his head. He was smiling, with his blue eye, the perfect personification of a summer’s day. “What do you think? Not so bad for our temporary quarters, huh? I told you the people of Earth love me.” He sounded proud of his acquisition.

Thor had insisted he and Loki live separately from Asgardia, formerly Asgard, for a few days with a story about adjusting and settling down, even going so far as to commission the help of that second-rate sorceror to look after the people for the time being. Loki had no idea how this life, this new life, this second chance of his, was going to pan out for the next couple of weeks, months, years, decades…

His brother...his king...had asked him a question...but the colors, the gray clouds beyond, the city below, the strange light from the strange sun were feeding him too much information than he knew what to do with. So he closed his eyes, hoping to focus—but he could not escape them. They were still there—in the buzzing in the walls, the humming, the growling beneath his feet. The very air itself seemed to vibrate, a constant reminder that he...was no longer in Asgard. That he would no longer stand amongst its golden grandeur, the statues of its foreparents, under its sweeping skies in an easy spring day or its bright moon and its sea of stars at night, when the world had finally fallen asleep.

Opening his eyes, he whirled at Thor, and finally beamed at him. “Who needs peace and quiet, anyway?” he answered.


	2. Tough

After testing the crimson claw between his teeth, Loki decided it was much better to just crack the shell between his fingers. 

It came apart in chunky shards, like awkward puzzle pieces which he peeled to reveal the white and red meat from within, still steaming slightly. He noted this when he raised the exposed claw to the daylight from beyond the glass door and windows, looking out to the street. Bringing the soft meat to his face, he gave it a tentative sniff, then finally bit into it. 

“Mmm,” was his first comment after sucking the rest of the shell dry. “Never had lobster done this way before. This _is_ lobster, isn’t it?”

“If it looks like a lobster, then it should be a lobster.”

The shapeshifter rolled his eyes. “And this is why you get stabbed.”

Thor threatened him with a table knife. “Not here, Loki. Midgard has laws about that.”

“Oh please,” Loki smirked, “as if you would bleed to death from a single stab wound. I’ve tried it far too many times to know that it never works.” He reached for another piece of the lobster and cracked it open. 

Thor sucked at his fingers then claimed the last piece of rib from the platter. “You know,” he began suddenly, “I was thinking, you should probably get a job.”

“Me,” Loki spat in surprise, eying his brother as he polished the bone clean of its meat. “A job.”

“Yeah.”

“Doing what?” Loki wanted to laugh. “I don’t suppose you’ll know anyone looking for someone of my particular skill set? The last time I burned down half the city, no one seems to have liked it.”

“Well, I mean,” Thor shrugged, “yeah, that was a bit excessive. The people of Earth are very fond of street magic, though.”

“My magic,” Loki raised a brow, “is not meant for public consumption, and most definitely not for entertainment.”

“Or fortune tellers.” Thor beamed, lips stretched wide. 

Loki rolled his eyes. “You need a new joke.”

“Yes, and he’s sitting right there in front of me.”

Loki brandished his own table knife at the laughing man. “Don’t test me, brother,” he warned him. 

“Or what? You’ll…” Thor pursed his lips, furrowed his brows, tapping his chin. “Let me guess—stab me?” 

Loki made a noise, rolling his eyes. Thor laughed again. Neither of them thought to stop before they made the other patrons in the tiny Chinese restaurant uncomfortable. Loki would have preferred somewhere bigger, cleaner and more sophisticated but his brother insisted that this was a good place, never mind that neither of them knew exactly what the Chinese were, except that they were also Midgardians. 

“You need a job,” Loki countered. 

“Brother, I,” Thor leaned closer to him, making little nods, fingers and bone just hovering over his chest as he whispered, “already have a job. Okay? I’m an Avenger, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. I’m the _strongest_ Avenger.”

“I’m sure.”

“The people of Earth love me because I save them,” he went on. “It’s what I do, I avenge them.”

“And I suppose that’s how we’re going to pay for all this,” Loki said, sweeping a hand over the mess of plates and bones, rising up to form pillars and piles. “By the sheer weight of your face value.”

“Well, I was also thinking of using this credit card Stark gave me. You don’t have one yet and that,” Thor pointed at Loki with the clean rib bone, “is why you need to get a job. Because this isn’t Asgard anymore. Things are much more different now than how they used to be.”

“But how much different could they _really_ be now, brother?” Loki asked, smiling. “After all, we never did own anything we thought we did. You know, the gold. The glory. Perhaps, even the throne.” Easier for him to say now, after years of living with the truth of his origins. 

Not so with Thor, who must have watched his own life burn and blow in front of his very eyes just as Asgard had. To learn that he was not the firstborn, to learn that even to him, his own beloved father would lie about everything that was important to him. His own identity, his history. 

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Loki said, after Thor, crestfallen, had gone silent. “Knowing all that you thought you had was never yours to begin with. At least not by the way you thought you had them.” Thor looked up to him, his blue eye a perfect reflection of his mood. Loki smiled a bit. “Well, with hundreds of years of living among things we don’t own, how much harder could it really be now?”

The smile wasn’t instantaneous, but when it came, it was there, brightening his one eye again. Soon, Thor was laughing, waving his finger at Loki. “Fine,” he conceded. “Fine, I’ll take your point.”

“It must have taken all of you to say that.”

“Stop,” Thor warned him. They laughed. 

They almost hadn’t noticed the waitress standing over Loki’s shoulder until she’d announced that she’d come bearing their order of, “One whole roast…suckling…pig…”

Loki turned back to her with a smile to answer the stunned gaze she directed at their full table. Thor, also smiling, waved and said, “Yes, right here, please.”

“Oh my God,” someone whispered, “that’s their tenth order, what the hell?” 

The suckling pig soon found a place between him and his brother after their citadel of empty dishes had been cleared, bordered by plates of duck, more ribs and fat fish lying on their sides. 

Loki ripped a leg from the suckling pig, cutting it loose with his knife while his brother negotiated the other leg. “I have to admit, though. For all that we said about Midgard,” he gestured at Thor with the freed limb, “this pig is very delicious.” A sentiment which he demonstrated happily by tearing at it with his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol technically it's already a few minutes past midnight but whatever. Also I know Loki always looks proper and stuff but he's still a space viking so it's always been my headcanon that he, too, has a legendary appetite. See also Loki's contest with wildfire in Utgard-Loki's keep in the mythology.


	3. Smile

They met each other at the corner of the grocery store, and ever since, they’d been friends. Loki had been inspecting the magazines—the happy faces, the solemn faces, the pictures of gardens or gleaming skyscrapers—when he heard the children, a boy and his presumably younger sister, arguing over a piece of coin. They’d watched a disappearing trick online but couldn’t seem to make it work between the two of them. Loki had ignored them at first—or tried to, they were simply too amusing to be shut out completely—until he could no longer resist it and started to interfere, teleporting the coin in and out of wherever it was or wasn’t wanted. It depended on whose turn it was; he favored the girl over her older brother, perhaps for obvious reasons. And might have even been the cause of an argument between both siblings if they hadn’t turned and noticed this pale man in a dark suit watching them. Both children stopped instantly and stared. Loki had no choice then but to introduce himself. 

The children said nothing, and turned only to exchange glances, perhaps waiting for the other to make a move. Clearly, this was not a situation they’d been taught to deal with. Knowing no better, the boy turned to Loki and asked him, “D’you wanna see something cool?” 

“I would love to,” Loki obliged him. 

Thrilled by his permission, the boy began, launching into the opening flourish without a second thought, his sister watching eagerly. Loki dropped to one knee, providing cues that he was paying attention while the boy palmed the coin first with one hand, then the other. 

“Okay,” he said. “Now you see it…now you don’t!”

He opened his palm for Loki to check for himself—only to find that it was there, the coin in all its glory. The boy sighed, deflated by disappointment. “I told you you should have used the left hand first before the right,” his sister chided. 

“Probably used the wrong magic word,” Loki added. “Here,” he said, taking the coin and raising it for the children to see. “Watch closely.”

He performed the trick in front of them flawlessly, a simple sleight of hand he’d mastered when he was younger, much younger than the both of them. Neither of the two had expected this strange man to know his business. Caught by excitement, they demanded for him to do it again, so he did. 

That was how Loki had spent his first afternoon in a grocery mart—indulging a pair of Midgardian kids with some tricks up his sleeves although he couldn’t help but add a little sorcery into the mix just for the applause. By now, the coin had already traveled and multiplied a number of times, transformed into a ring and then back again, only to disappear again when Loki had spread out both his hands, to their great shock. 

“Where is it?” the girl asked. 

“I don’t know,” Loki lied, turning his hands over, searching the space between his digits in case it might fall off from there. “I don’t know, I can’t see it anymore.”

“It’s gone!” the boy declared. 

“Well, what’s that in your fist, then?” Loki asked him, pointing at his closed right. 

Both children turned to look as he opened his hand, revealing the coin. They screamed, thunderstruck with delight. “How’d you do that?!” the boy demanded while his sister snatched the object, making sure it was real. Loki shrugged, although he was clearly pleased by the result. 

Too bad they would never learn how it was done; by then, their mother had finally finished paying and it was time to go home. With a hasty goodbye, they ran, racing each other for her. Loki rose as he watched them leave by the sliding door, hounding their mother on both sides, screaming over each other for the woman’s attention. 

“I thought you said you weren’t a street magician?” 

Loki turned to see his brother approaching with two bags loaded to the brim. He raised his brow. “I thought street magicians only performed in the streets—oof!” 

“Make yourself useful,” Thor said, smirking after he’d shoved one bag to his brother. He left Loki to adjust the bulk on his own while he turned to the direction of the doorway opening up for two girls, walking in with hands held. “They’ll tell their mother everything.”

“Children like to say whatever comes to mind,” Loki explained, extracting a box of pop tarts from the top of his bag and shaking it to his ear. “After today, I will become nothing more than a fickle of their imagination.”

“I didn’t even realize that you liked kids, Loki!” Thor laughed, turning to face him again. “Where did you learn that from? Midgard?”

Loki eyed his brother strangely. “You know, this might surprise you but children have also existed outside of Midgard and they are not that much different from each other. Even in Asgard, children have always had a knack for mischief and I, happen to have a soft spot for mischief myself.” He beamed at his brother. “It’s probably why we got on so well when we were children, did we not?” The story of their lives. Thor only replied with a softer version of his expression, perhaps not quite in the same page as he just yet but in spite of that, he brightened up suddenly and asked him, “Would you like to see something cool, brother?” 

“You better not try anything funny with the food, Loki,” Thor warned him as he followed him out of the store.


	4. Storm

Before he knew it, a week had passed since the events of Ragnarok, although Loki couldn’t say it had truly been that long. The days and nights in Midgard were much shorter than he was used to. 

He thought that was why he had trouble sleeping, no matter that the lights had all been shut out and he was lying in bed, staring into nothing for as long as he could remember. Resisting the urge to flip through one of the books he’d purchased (with Thor’s money) from a quaint bookstore, knowing how easily he could neglect himself in favor of his curiosity and his interest, only to spend the rest of the daylight feeling sour and listless. He would then have to rely on his magic to help him survive the waking hours, and that generally made him feel worse. It was not a trick he wanted to attempt in new territory, at least not yet. 

But it was all that noise, too. The ceaseless murmur of life, of the energy flowing between their walls and ceilings, under their feet. And sometimes, the distant boom and rumble. 

He eyed the door curiously. Finally, he got up, slipping into his soft bedroom sandals and his silk bathrobe, the train falling closely to his ankles. He opened the door and stepped out. 

Arms crossed, he eyed the culprit—a dark silhouette in a sleeveless Asgardian robe, standing in the midst of the undying glow of the city. Past the windows, he could see the clouds were thick and gray, rolling lazily over each other. Bits of light flashed between them without a sensible pattern, like thieves grasping at morsels of the spotlight whenever they could dare. 

“You know, Midgard probably has laws about that kind of thing,” Loki said from his bedroom.

Thor chuckled. “If gazing at stars is such a crime, half of Midgard would be covered by dungeons by now.” As an afterthought, he turned around and reached for the remote controller from their glass table. He pitched it at Loki. 

Loki snatched it from the air before it could hit his face. “If there are stars to gaze at to begin with.” He nodded to the window, tossing the black device to their plush couch as he moved towards the kitchen. “You’ve gone and covered them up with your brooding. What’s the weather ever done to you?” 

“Ahh, you mean the laws of the gods,” Thor said, turning back to his view. “Don’t worry, brother. I know how much lightning scares you. I won’t make it rain. Not just yet.”

“You better not,” Loki agreed before he disappeared through the open door, making for the fridge. He picked two bottles of Thor’s preferred beer, and popped them open with a knife he’d conjured from thin air. 

“If you’re going to do it at all,” he continued, returning to his brother’s side to offer him one of them, “you may as well do it right.” He waited for Thor to notice the bottle, and to take it. He raised his. “To Asgard,” he proposed. “May they find rest among the stars.” 

It was as good a toast to the memory of their friends, their people, as any. Thor smiled and drank to that. 

Loki joined him, both of them finishing their beer in a single gulp. Thor seemed refreshed by it. He tipped his empty bottle to his brother and asked, “Another?”

With a playful smirk, Thor carried his own over his shoulder and smashed it down his feet.


	5. Snow

They stayed up all night, well past midnight, telling tales of past campaigns and glorious battles. Counting, recounting, discounting… 

“Liar,” Thor laughed. “You couldn’t have brought down Fornjot’s gate all on your own. It was my hammer that did it.”

“Well, I mean,” Loki shrugged, “after I’d cut through the chains and the ropes, anyone could have brought it down.”

They sat facing each other in the living room, surrounded by empty bottles of beer, like two actors in a dialogue and their audience. Loki couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Thor look so melancholy, smiling gently, if he had ever seen it at all. Odin-like in spite of his youth. Even in the funeral parties of the past, he was rowdy, declaiming the virtues of the fallen, spilling mead as he drank, to the roar of their comrades. But perhaps, this time, there was simply too many deaths to feel victorious upon Death herself. Perhaps even the God of Thunder cannot be god over his regrets and doubts, as well. Loki couldn’t say that he liked it. 

They talked and talked, until Thor finally tired enough to fall asleep. To dream of more memories, for sure. Loki lingered, drinking the beer that Thor had left him, watching his brother painted by the moonbeam, and the dust motes floating, falling, silvery, almost white in the light. This was not how he remembered him; when he thought of his brother, he remembered the cold heat of a lightning strike, the tremor of the mountains and the brightness of summer, with clear blue skies and lakes that sparkled like the stars. Not this old man, this tired god who had run out of spirit, of fire. He hated the color of the night on him. He hated that he slept! 

He rose, stood over his brother. It was so easy to do! Thor did not stir; he wouldn’t know what he did, he wouldn’t care. Loki felt a familiar itch in his hand. 

He reached down to one of Thor’s wrists, and secured the other hand on his shoulder while he summoned a spell around them, closing his eyes to envision Thor’s bedroom. The world disappeared and resolved itself in a flash of golden light. Thankfully, the walls of his brother’s private quarters were much darker than the living room, shrouding his weariness. 

Loki arranged him to lie down his bed, stripped him of his robe; he knew Thor did not like to sleep in it. 

He stood again over him, as if he had business still. He watched his strong chest rise and fall, full of life. He watched his face, rested and at peace, without a care for the world. How easy it was, he thought all of a sudden. 

How easy it was to just take a knife now, and kill him.


	6. Blade

Sunlight dressed the living room, banishing the memory of their late night nostalgia. Even the host of bottles had disappeared, although Loki could not remember transporting them somewhere more convenient (for him) before turning in. The day was fair, the skies promising dry weather. 

Thor was in the kitchen, accompanied by a radio—he learned since his first day that that was what it was called—buzzing on about the storm that never was last night. He was in his robe again, a pair of shorts and fluffy slippers, working on a chopping board. Loki could never imagine this sight in their Asgard. 

“I told you we should have brought Teitr with us,” Loki mumbled, coming up to his brother’s side, inspecting the food laid out. There were eggs, tomatoes, cheese, herring in oil and sliced meatloaf. Thor was mincing onion. Very deliberately. 

“Ahh, spare me, brother,” Thor grinned, focusing on the white bulb between his fingers, dwarfed by the sheer size of his hand. He lined up his knife, and pressed to cut. The result wasn’t perfect but the effort was admirable. “The walls are too thin and the place too small for your passions. I would much rather eat mediocre stuff than to never be able to sleep again.”

“We do have a third bedroom we’ve never used yet,” Loki reminded Thor, peeling a layer of meatloaf and dangling it over his mouth to eat it. 

“And what makes you think I won’t hear you past the door?” Thor laughed. “You’re selling yourself too short, Loki!”

“If you don’t listen, you won’t hear us,” Loki reasoned, taking another slice to eat. 

“Loki, stop eating all our food.”

“Well, I’m sure you won’t mind,” Loki said, going for his third. “You seem very fond of grocery shopping.” Suddenly he turned to Thor and asked him, “Why are you even doing this?” 

“Um,” Thor glanced sideways, smirking in amusement, “because we need to eat?” 

“You’re the King of Asgard. Kings don’t do this,” Loki persisted, gesturing to the onion. 

“Then I guess that makes me,” Thor eyed Loki pointedly, “the first king to do this.” He chopped the onion again. It came out worse than the last one did. Loki groaned, rolling his eyes. Thor laughed again, now concentrating on his work. “Besides, you know what they say—when in Rome, do as the Romans do.”

“In the what?” Loki spat, squinting at Thor in confusion. 

“I meant in Midgard,” Thor amended, “do as the Midgardians do.”

“Being king, you’re about as Asgardian as it gets,” Loki snorted, shaking his head. If he didn’t know any better—and perhaps, in fact, he did—this little time away from their people was just Thor’s excuse to delay his responsibilities. 

The chopping sounds came choppily, greatly lacking finesse, which only made Loki irritable. He glared at the growing pile of irregularly shaped onion bits, at the diminishing bulb, the silver guillotine Thor held over its side. He remembered standing over Thor’s sleeping form late last night. The blood in his ears, the itch in his hand. 

Loki twisted it carefully. 

In a blink, a mouse shivered to life and squeezed itself free from Thor’s grip. He jumped back as Thor cried and swung his fist down on the pest. It burst in a golden light, leaving a web of cracked tiles where Thor had smashed it away. 

Loki broke out with a laugh, rich and long as Thor inspected his innocent onion and then the damage he’d caused. 

“Loki…!” Thor growled, glaring at the culprit. 

Loki grinned at his brother, then gasped quietly, turning his face into one full of innocence. “Oh good morning, Your Majesty!” With a final beam, he stepped out of the kitchen.


	7. Wind

In hindsight, Loki realized it was high time he learned how to be more responsive towards his brother’s presence before someone—particularly him or maybe even Thor, if Loki didn’t control himself—lost an(other) eye. 

He’d already heard him coming from a distance, heard the song he was humming to (something from the radio) when he opened the door and stepped in but even when his brother had frozen all of a sudden, Loki had simply refused to budge. He was very comfortable in his bathrobe, on the single sofa, his back to one arm and his legs across the other, with a hard book between his hands. 

That was, until a coin had bounced off Loki’s head making him jump, feet flying to the floor. “Thor, really!!” he roared, whirling at his brother. The coin rolled down the inside of his robe. 

Thor looked at him strangely. “You really are here,” he observed. 

Loki shook his head, his face full of disapproval and disbelief. “Not even an apology. How thoughtful.” He threw his hands up. “You can’t even bother to just ask me if I’m really here or not, can you?” He started digging inside his robe for the blasted coin. 

“Oh, you mean ask the God of Lies for the truth?” Thor smiled at him, patting a towel over his face. He’d just come from a run that had kept him away from the apartment for the better part of the morning and lent Loki a temporary taste of peace. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you had a show to catch?” 

Loki did have a show to catch. Since he and his brother had settled into their apartment and Midgard’s cycles, they’d started going out to explore the city. Loki had found the thriving theater scene perfect for his tastes and was constantly away to watch a play or a musical. There was one particular one that had easily become his favorite, being a story about magic, lies, an unpopular main character who withstood the injustices done on her person, and he’d been going to watch it almost every day—until he’d stopped all of a sudden. Probably because it got too real, and not in the way that he liked. 

Instead, he waved the book he was reading and lied, saying, “These Midgardian libraries are too stingy with their terms.”

Thor shrugged, making for his bedroom. “Fair enough,” he said. 

When Loki had finally extracted the coin from the depths of his clothes, he hurled it at the wall just as Thor was crossing it. The crack of the metal digging into the surface stunned him, sending him back with a jump. Thor glared at Loki, demanding, “Are you mad?” 

Loki shrugged and whispered, “Sorry. Just checking if you were there.”

“Loki, this isn’t ours to begin with, we’re only renting this place.”

“Funny.” Loki wrinkled his brows, crossing his arms. “I don’t remember you saying that when you broke the kitchen tiles.”

“Stop,” Thor warned him with a finger. 

He watched him leave and listened to the door shut. Loki snarled through his nose as he sank back in his seat and returned to his book. 

It seemed as if he’d barely gotten through a page, though, before the door was already knocking. Again. “Loki, get the door. I’m in the shower,” Thor called. 

Whoever that was who had somehow wound up at their doorstep in that particular hour would surely get it, Loki swore. He rolled his eyes and flung out a hand angrily, waving his projection into existence as the door unlocked itself. The illusion stood patiently, hands back, with a smile on his face. 

Clearly not expecting the visitor who demanded, as she so often would, “Where’s Thor?” 

He’d already seen her in his mind’s eye, channeled through his projection—long black hair let down, her armor and sword under a traveler’s shroud, the fire burning in her eyes—but that didn’t stop him from dropping his book and whirling once more to see her standing through the door, this time with his own two eyes. He could hardly believe who had stumbled upon their humble abode. It had been a long time since they’d last met before she embarked on a personal journey, and the last time they talked, he was still donning his adopted father’s clothes. He wondered how she’d come to know of their present residence but he supposed a warrior of her caliber would have her ways. 

Sif turned away from his projection to look at him, confusion now playing in her face. Last she knew, he was dead and gone in Svartalfheim. He supposed that news hadn’t reached her yet. Until now, that is. Loki finally rose, killing his illusion, but not to welcome their surprise guest. 

“Who is it?” Thor asked as he passed him. Loki did not answer. He left his brother to find out for himself as he disappeared into his room. 

And turned around to watch the reunion from behind his door, shocked at first, Thor sputtering, “Sif!” as he hurried towards her approach. Come the next beat, they would meet in the middle of the living room with a fierce embrace. Half of Sif’s face was buried behind Thor’s shoulder. She did not complain that he was crushing her with his strength. 

“I’m sorry,” Thor gasped. “I’m sorry. I should have come sooner!” 

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” Sif replied. “I should have stayed, I should have been there with them!” 

After they had safely escaped Asgard’s destruction, and the people of Asgard were left to deal with their grief, Thor went in search of his three warrior friends. But when he was finally informed of their sacrifices, he only nodded…and moved on. A king with a people who looked to him for directions had better things to do than to grieve. Until now. 

Loki knew of no such loss. He had no friends in Asgard, or at least none that he mourned for. The only one who would have fit the bill was standing right there in the living room, hugging his friend who had lost as much as he. Someone who sympathized with him better. 

Perhaps, he realized sourly, he should have gone to that show after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I know I said no non-Ragnarok characters but we need some closure here, ok??
> 
> Also for those asking yes, the musical in question is Wicked.


	8. Foot

Loki gave both friends a wide berth, made himself scarce to them.

In fact, after opening the door for Sif, Loki had never presented himself in front of them again.

They, of course, needed the time and the space. Thor had been quick to settle Sif in the sofa and clear out the mess by putting them somewhere else she couldn’t see. Sorrow changed to happiness, at the excitement of still catching each other alive in spite of Ragnarok. But soon enough, conversations of real estate, street food, soul searching and whatnot had turned, finally, to the matters of home. Of loss and comfort. “I lost my hammer,” Thor said, throwing the right hand which always held it. “Lost my father, lost my home. Lost my friends.”

“Not all of them,” Sif reminded him hastily, reaching for his wrist. “Not all of them,” she said again, only for her gaze to fall as she sniffed quietly.

“How did they die?” she asked after.

“I wish I knew,” Thor said after a long pause, the pain of not knowing weighing down his voice. _They said…_ he began. _I heard…_ he went on.

Loki sat by his door, an unopened book in hand as he listened. He had heard the same stories as Thor had—he had nothing to add here. There was no place for him between two friends catching up after so long. He would have to look for it elsewhere.

He found it in a bar with matted walls, subdued lighting and a piano playing somewhere Loki couldn’t see—no wonder it sounded fake. Like the songs that came from the radio. The place glittered, though, in a way that reminded him of his late night escapades in the palace library back in the castle, in the day. Only instead of Asgardian tech, the lights bounced off of glasses, polished surfaces and dangling bobbles in red, green and gold which seemed to be a recurring theme throughout the city, along with wreaths and trees and an old man that reminded him terrifyingly of Odin. All the same, it gave him some sense of comfort. Familiarity. A haven of sorts. Now he just wished he had a book, or a scroll or just anything to read. Instead, all he had on hand was a deep glass of cabernet sauvignon.

And company—which he hadn’t arranged for. But he didn’t stop her when she sat next to him and ordered an, “I’ll have what he’s having.” Punctuated by a smile directed to him as she added quietly, “Hope you don’t mind.”

Loki raised his glass for a little salute. “I hear it’s a free world,” he replied. Thor would have detected the sarcasm in his tongue.

Not the woman, who smiled in agreement, chin on her hand. She was a large woman, broad-shouldered, with long black hair that flowed softly and a dark complexion that would make any dress feel honored to be put on her. Tonight it was red.

Her glass arrived. She raised it, and they drank together in silence.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked as she refilled her glass. She had a deep voice, slightly husky but not at all unattractive. In fact, quite the opposite, Loki thought.

“Must there be an occasion?” he asked in response, matching his own tone to hers. He shifted slightly to face her.

She nodded to him. “You’re overdressed for a glass of wine.”

Loki looked down to his black suit and laughed. “It’s not a crime, is it?” he replied, smiling at his companion. “You can’t say who you’ll meet, after all.” She laughed this time, and he broke out to a handsome grin. “If it’s not to your liking, though, I’ll be happy to change.”

“Mm, no,” she decided, crossing her knee over the other so that her skirt fell and exposed a little of her thigh through a strategic slit, grazing his leg slightly with her painted toes. “I think this is good for now.”

Loki did not miss a single beat of her motion. From her high-heeled sandal, and one that gave her ankle justice, he raised his eyes and met hers, gazing back at him. She raised her wine glass to her lips and drank. Her lips were a deep shade of purple, and full.

“For now,” he agreed, matching her look with a subtle smirk as he, too, raised his glass and sipped from it.


	9. Cold

They laid together in Zoe’s studio at the top of her semi-detached house, a room that was wider than it was taller. Her head was on his chest, his arms around her, finger stroking at the soft rolls of flesh along her side while his eyes wandered around. At the painted canvasses, some finished, some still with a long way to go, others with senseless strokes or splashes of color with some poetry scribbled on top. Outside, he could hear the hush of an easy rain. Pale blue light poured down the floor from the sole window.

“So you’re an artist,” he said suddenly. Her pictures were mostly of the human figure in all its shapes and colors. She drew both men and women and the ones caught in-between like her. ‘Transition’ was the word she’d used. 

“I started drawing when I was 13. Art became my escape,” Zoe shared. She stretched out an arm and pointed at a canvas of a pregnant woman inspecting her round tummy in front of a mirror, her dress up and her underwear down. Half of it was still in gray lines. “That’s my current work in-progress.”

“Just that?” Loki asked, raising a brow. He nodded at another—at a boy floating on his back in an uncolored pool. “How about that?”

“Mm, when I’m in the mood,” Zoe answered dismissively, shrugging. She and Loki chuckled. The window flashed then. A heartbeat later, a low rumble followed it. Loki threw his face up to it. He listened to the rain as it fell harder outside.

“What about you? What is it you do?”

Loki returned to Zoe with a smile. He shifted a little under her weight to pull her closer. She laid down on his chest again. “I’m just a tourist, really,” he answered.

“From where?”

“Norway.”

Zoe looked up to him again, eyes round with surprise. “Really,” she said. “You’re based there or were you born there?”

“So many questions all of a sudden!” Loki laughed, beaming. “Is this a test of whether you’ll invite me back or not?”

There was a bright flash, and then the crackle and boom of thunder. They were both stunned out of the question, Zoe purely out of shock.

But Loki had turned again to the window, which brightened up with every flicker of lightning. The shadows of rain sliding down the glass marked themselves upon the floor, although the night had gotten much darker since he last looked. 

He got up, and padded towards it. The skies were practically black with anger now. He could imagine how heavy the clouds must be as they rolled over the city, drowning it. What was Thor thinking, he wondered, unleashing his power right there? This wasn’t Asgard, where everything could be forgiven with a wave of Odin’s hand. 

He wondered then if this was how Thor mourned, if this was what he’d meant. When he thought he’d died, did he also unleash this storm back then, when he’d gone and followed his girlfriend in Midgard and left the throne to him? What he must have felt then, and what he must feel now. He’d lost his hammer, his father, his home, his friends. He’d lost everything. 

“Everything okay?” Zoe asked from the mattress on the floor.

Not all of them, Sif had said.

Loki turned back to Zoe, and smiled. “Everything’s fine,” he said.

He bade her goodbye. She’d asked him to stay, what with the bad weather, but didn’t stop him when he started to dress. When he’d kissed her goodnight, Loki began to weave a spell that would make her forget, but stopped himself. He decided she could remember—he liked her enough, she was his first friend here on Midgard.

The rain had drenched him completely the moment he stepped out. It was a heavy curtain now, falling with the noise of a hungry crowd, drowning out the howl of the blowing wind. Had he been anything else, he probably would have frozen over by now—but that was a problem for a different life.

Now he had something else to attend to. In a flash of golden light, he disappeared.

When he came back to existence, he had already arrived at the corner of their address. The rain was as thick as ever, drenching the gray stones beneath his feet black. In spite of that, Loki could hear his brother. Crying.

His brother was crying—on his knees, a rare sight to behold. His shoulders sank with the weight of defeat.

And when he looked up to Loki when he presented himself to his king, he did not hide his grief, letting his tears flow in front of him. He was shattered, broken—there was no other way to describe the mighty Thor. 

Unbelievable, Loki thought. The impossible had finally, actually happened.

Did he want to kill him? Loki wondered. This defeated god, this king who lacked the strength to pick himself up. He looked like a common man now—and nothing more. He imagined his knife coming into being, the point of its blade driving into Thor’s last eye. He imagined the relief, the shudder of excitement and triumph in his arm.

He could not. He would not—not this man, at least. How could he kill a man who lashed out at the heavens for all that he lost? Whose anger and grief were so powerful, they could only be equivalent to a storm? Thor was defeated—but he was not yet done.

“All right, okay, that’s enough,” Loki snapped, reaching down to pull Thor up to his feet. He was heavy but not immovable. “Come on, let’s get inside. Come on, get up!”

He got up, rising unsteadily. Loki couldn’t catch Thor when he flung his weight and his arms around him, sobbing all the while so that he had to give his back a few hasty pats before he could rearrange them to walk side-by-side, as they would if they’d both had a bit too much mead to be left on their own. “All right, come on! God, you’re heavy,” Loki muttered, stumbling through the doorway that led to the building lobby. “I hope you don’t expect me to carry you all the way up like this…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case, if there is anyone at all who I might have offended with this chapter and the last, I'm truly sorry and would be happy to know where I can improve. ♥


	10. Pencil

The rain had stopped as soon as Thor had fallen asleep, his wet clothes tossed haphazardly to the floor which Loki figured he could pick up when his head was clear. In the morning, Loki rose earlier than his brother. He went into the kitchen and started with breakfast. 

When Thor had come in to join him, everything was already laid out—the fish, the fruits and vegetables, jams and bread—but without the kind of presentation that would have told Thor he was being expected. Later on, both brothers would get to fight on who would put everything away (which would involve flying cherry tomatoes) before they get to trick both into participating in the effort. 

“Headache?” Loki asked, occupying Thor’s usual place, a book in hand as was usual. He’d heard his brother dragging his weight from the shuffle of his slippers. Thor hadn’t even bothered coming in in more than a pair of shorts. The king glared at his prince. He looked just short of being hungover. His prince nodded to the teapot in the middle of the table, a bit of steam rising off its spout. “Drink,” he ordered. 

Thor shifted his eyes down to the quaint thing, complete with the floral paint, Loki had indicated. It was something he’d bought off a yard sale on impulse because the woman who was selling it said her mother was a fan of his and had been the object of Loki’s criticism until he got tired of it. He pulled a chair back to deposit his weight onto it, opened the pot and drank straight from the top. Thor twisted his face in protest. “Where did you manage to forage such foul-tasting ingredients?” 

“In the grocery, your favorite place here on Earth,” Loki said eyes back on his book. “They’re not exactly what I was looking for but apparently, they work.” Or at least that was what the book said, which he showed to Thor when Thor glared at him with the silent question. “Keep drinking.”

“Have you even tasted this before you served it to me?” Thor scowled, getting up. He went around the kitchen. 

“No,” Loki answered, following his brother with his eyes as he opened one cupboard after another. “I wasn’t the one who put on a show last night—” He clicked his tongue, putting down his book, annoyed at his brother’s continued search for something. Something else to drink, maybe. “It’s not poison.”

“I’m looking for honey,” Thor said. 

“Honey?” Loki laughed. “The King of Asgard can’t even take his tea straight.”

“The King of Asgard wants honey, and so honey he shall get.” Which he eventually did with a triumphant, “Aha!” He twisted it open and poured a healthy dollop into the pot. 

Loki rolled his eyes. “That’s not how you’re meant to drink it.”

“Your book isn’t the boss of me,” Thor said, taking the spreading knife stuck into the jar of marmalade to stir his tea with. He pointed at Loki as he added, “You’re not the boss of me either.”

Loki frowned at his response. “What the hell happened yesterday, anyway?” he asked, tossing his book to the table. “I leave for a few hours and suddenly, it’s raining like there’s no tomorrow. Where’s Sif?”

“We had dinner and then she left.”

Loki couldn’t say why that had surprised him. 

But to answer any questions he might have, Thor continued, “She wanted to look for Asgardia. I gave her a map of Norway and then she left.” He glared at Loki, again. “And what about you? You didn’t even leave a note!” 

“How was I supposed to leave a note? I didn’t want to disturb you and Sif,” Loki lied. He’d done it on purpose, after all. “You weren’t worried, were you?” 

“No, I wasn’t,” Thor snapped. Loki blinked. He scowled, “Where were you last night, anyway?”

“At a bar? I was drinking with a friend.”

Thor put down the teapot and guffawed. Clearly the headache was gone now. Loki decided it was because of him. “You have friends here now?” he asked. 

Loki frowned. “Her name’s Zoe, she’s an artist, I met her in the bar.”

“Did she ask for your number?” 

Loki stopped. He furrowed his brows as he answered, “Yes. In fact she did. What’s up with that?” 

“It’s the Midgardians’ form of communication. I’ll have to investigate it soon enough,” Thor said, finishing his tea. Looking inside the pot, suddenly he laughed again, but this time it was in good cheer. “I can’t believe it. You’ve gone and made friends without me.”

“Jealous?” Loki asked. “I thought you were busy last night. You know, with Sif. The storm. Your grocery list.”

“I wasn’t—” 

Loki opened his book and produced the white slip he’d used as a bookmark, filled with Thor’s handwriting in lead. It was a long list that started with some essentials and went on to have items, foods and drinks that could only be found in the former Asgard. Some of them he knew wasn’t even Thor’s favorite. One of them, he knew, was Fandral’s—Loki remembered it thanks to a little prank he’d masterminded. “I saw this here, on the table,” he explained to Thor’s silence. “If you don’t want me to see your receipts, keep it.”

Thor said nothing. 

Loki put the slip back in his book, putting his elbows on the table. He looked Thor in the eye as he asked again, “What happened last night?” This time, he was surprised that he meant the question. 

Thor leaned back in his seat. He crossed his arms, staring at the open teapot. He spoke after a moment. “Yesterday, after Sif left, I thought about all that I had, and all that I still could have had if I hadn’t lost them.” He smiled at Loki. “Definitely not an empty apartment.”

With nothing to say, Loki smiled back. 

The doorbell rang, breaking the silence. Thor got up, muttering something about the mail as he left the kitchen. 

“Put a shirt on, for God’s sake,” Loki called. He picked up his book and fell back on his chair again, searching for where he’d left off but not without a little difficulty. One part of his attention listened closely for Thor in case the man would soon be returning to the kitchen—he would hate for him to see the self-satisfied smirk pulling at his lips.


	11. Nose

What could Thor have had if he hadn’t lost nearly everything? Definitely not an empty apartment, he’d said. 

Imagine Loki’s surprise when he came home to one, with the lights out, the kettle cold, no dishes laid out on the table. He called for his brother as he explored the flat, feet moving silently. There really was no reason to keep his footsteps to himself, it was just a force of habit. 

“Are you home?” he asked the walls, stopping by the living room to put down a brochure and a calling card from his pocket. That evening, he’d dropped by the bar again, asking for Zoe (this was the closest thing he could get for a number) but received instead an invitation for a future art exhibit and a note saying she was somewhere more important. Perhaps that was for the better, he thought, when Thor failed to produce himself in his bedroom. 

At the end of his search, Loki wound right back where he started, his fists on his sides. “Huh,” he said. It seemed like his brother had followed his example by leaving without a note. What a terrible time for that, too, it smelled like rain was coming. 

Loki closed his eyes, carefully exhaled. 

He caught a man who worked for the building management (he recognized his uniform) out in the hall who pointed him to the right direction. The rooftop was not yet a place he was familiar with, so he had to take the lift going up. This time, he no longer bothered with any secrecy. The bell dinged. The doors parted open. 

“You know, this mood of yours is going to get us both evicted,” Loki said as he sat next to his brother at the edge of the roof. Neither of them considered the possibility of falling off, of course, if they didn’t die out in the cold first, no matter that the wind pulled and bit tonight. Clearly, they the gods were above such petty deaths. 

Thor looked comfortable in his cashmere jumper and his soft socks. He smirked slightly. “I didn’t know you cared enough to stop me,” he said. 

“I need a roof over my head and I need your money,” Loki replied, all of which was true, no matter which way they put it. Having made his point, he said no more. Thor himself returned to comfortable silence. There were no stars out tonight—the clouds were too thick for them and the city lights were all that could be seen. 

Loki leaned slightly towards his brother. “Boring, isn’t it?” he asked. He tossed his hand to the city. “The black and the tiny little lights. No stars, no gold.”

“Definitely beats Sakaar, though.”

“No question about it.”

“And I thought you liked that place!”

“Well, it was _okay_ , I mean,” Loki shrugged. Thor was facing him, eying him curiously but with amusement dancing in his lips, “I had a comfortable life, maybe even a modest investment. All that was left for me was to orchestrate a little accident, inherit the throne and everything would have been somewhat manageable.”

“Somewhat,” Thor laughed, “manageable!” 

“Let’s be honest, the Sakaarans aren’t known for their refinement. _But,_ ” he lifted a finger, “that was something I thought I could live with, they’re already into some kind of theater and then you,” he turned to Thor, “came along and ruined my plans. And here we are.” He threw out his hands. 

Thor eyed him strangely. “Is that what you really think? Did you really think I had no chance with Hela? You didn’t even think about me, did you?”

“She destroyed your hammer and I was alone for two weeks in a planet that’s run by a lunatic, what do you think? I had to look after myself!” Loki snapped suddenly. 

Thor hadn’t expected that outburst. Neither of them had. All around them, the city went on, oblivious to the gods above. 

Loki shifted uneasily, gazing forward. “Sorry. That was uncalled for,” he muttered curtly, cleared his throat. He raised his chin to recover whatever face he’d lost there, ignoring Thor’s attention. 

“You know, I was happy to see you there, Loki,” Thor confessed after a moment. Loki turned to him warily, head still high. “Losing my hammer. Father. Losing my way and getting captured, you know, it was my lowest point. But then I saw you,” he smiled slightly, “and then suddenly, the world wasn’t all that dark.”

Loki lifted his brow. “You wanted to kill me,” he reminded Thor. 

“Well I mean,” Thor wrinkled his face, swinging his head sideways, “that’s part and parcel of meeting you, isn’t it?” His smile widened when Loki conceded to his point, offering no protest. “I never got to thank you for what you did. Helping us save Asgard. When you could have picked any ship to go elsewhere.” Loki looked at him again, brows wrinkled. “I was hoping you would follow and you did. So,” he nodded, “thank you.”

Loki blinked. “Well, you’re…welcome,” he said uncertainly. He eyed his brother curiously. “You really thought I could stay away, didn’t you?” 

Thor grinned. “From unadulterated love and attention? Nah, I was counting on it.”

“Liar.”

“Says the liar.”

They laughed, banishing the weight of distrust. Thor reached for the back of his brother’s neck to clasp him warmly, as he usually did. Loki smiled at the familiar gesture, his heart full, beating happily. 

“But I’m never doing Get Help again,” he insisted. 

“Ahhh, brother,” Thor laughed, swinging his arm over Loki’s shoulders so that it trapped him to his side and with both of them at a precipice, with a very real danger of dragging each other down, it was a surefire way of dissuading any notions of stabbing. “You know what they say,” he said to the stars, smiling at them. “Never say never.”


	12. Promise

They came home to an empty apartment. The lights were out, but neither could be bothered to switch on any of them as they stumbled into the living room like a failed three-legged sack race of sorts. 

After they’d had enough of the roof, Thor and Loki had gone down to the city for a walk, and maybe a nightcap or two if they fancied. That nightcap or two, however, turned into a bottle or two which gradually added up to double figures. For each of them. They couldn’t help it, though—the happy hour promos were just too fun and it had been _ages_ since they’d done a challenge. Loki had the time of his life altering both his and his brother’s appearances in every bar they visited until he could no longer do it because they were laughing too damn hard with their stupid ideas. And they finally got bored anyway of drinking literally everyone down the table but by then, it was too late. The amount and mixture of alcohol they had taken had reached a point where even gods must get drunk. 

Loki flung his brother to the long sofa—or at least thought he did because he somehow ended up on his face there, too. That made him laugh, which made Thor laugh next until they were wheezing and sighing, slumped like slugs on the couch, legs splayed. Something fell and clattered to the floor. Thor growled and moaned something about a helmet. Probably the horned helmet he’d won from one of the drinking contests. “Ah, screw it,” he muttered in the end. 

Loki couldn’t remember the last time he had been blissfully intoxicated—or was that intoxicatedly blissful? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed himself into a ball of pain either. During his rule of Asgard, there’d been plenty of pranks to play but very little to laugh at them with. Now his head was being pounded by the mighty mjolnir, his stomach had abandoned him and left a bloody hole in its wake and his cheeks hated him. 

He felt like a young man again, draped onto his favorite settee like a useless cloth, the sun on his face and his troubles far away. He would listen to birdsong, or whichever music was being played, and bother whoever was unfortunate enough to be standing under his window at that moment. Life had been good in the past. Life had been good in Asgard. 

A great hand gripped him on the knee and Loki gasped awake, eyes darting around the blue room to search for the intruder, only there was none. There was only Thor, squinting at him as if he were a strange mammal as he tested the solidity of his bone. Loki groaned and dropped his head back to the seat, slapping his hand repeatedly on his brother’s grasp. 

“‘m ‘ere,” he mumbled through the haze of his grogginess. It hadn’t come out the way he’d wanted it so he tried again: “Am ear.” And then he decided to screw it. Thor knew what he meant. 

In the meantime, he fell back to sleep, as easily as he’d been startled out of it.


	13. Necklace

“Are you sure you wouldn’t much rather go with the brisingamen?” Loki asked. 

“Ahh, Loki,” Thor chuckled, fiddling with his stick-on bow tie in front of the mirror. “If you like it so much, why don’t you wear it? I’m sure you can conjure it from memory.”

“And earn her wrath?” Loki scowled, shifting slightly on the wall, arms folded across his chest. “You know how much Freya hates to see me in that thing, illusion or not.”

“And here I thought her magic didn’t scare you?” Thor said, viewing his profile. “I remember you said that after that time she replaced your mouth with—”

“Do you want to go to the party or not?” Loki snapped. Officially, though, the invitation was only for an art exhibit but Loki had been encouraged to assume that he and a plus-one would be wanted in the Christmas party after. Thor was that plus-one. Thor, with the power vested in him by Odin who made him brother to Loki, made sure of that. 

“So?” Thor asked as he turned to present himself to Loki. He was donned in a classic black suit and tie with a white shirt inside. “How do I look?” 

“Hideous.”

“Speak the truth now, brother.”

“For the first time in my whole life, I’m actually being honest,” Loki insisted, eyes round and open. “And I’m telling you, you look hideous.” 

“I think you misspoke the word _handsome_.”

“It’s too bleak for you!” Loki explained. “You’re too…you’re too…” He threw his hand to him. “Sunshine and butterflies.”

“And just when,” Thor shifted between his feet, crossing his arms, “did it become the God of Lies and Mischief’s sole privilege to wear something black?” 

“I’m not even wearing black tonight. It’s green.”

“Really?” Squinting, Thor stepped back and studied his dark suit. “I can’t tell. Were you lying just then?” 

Loki dropped his shoulders and rolled his eyes. “In any case,” he persisted, “you need to change. I’m not going to walk in there with someone who looks like a waiter.”

“Hey, I picked this out myself,” Thor complained. “Besides, it’s too late to change. And waiters are good people, too.”

Loki eyed him, the silent message, _Have you forgotten who your brother is?_ spelled out in them. Shaking his head, he waved his hand. 

Thor had no time to protest before the spell erupted in a golden light and left him in a changed suit—this time it was burgundy all over, black inside except for the bow tie which was stark white. 

Loki smiled. “In case you think it’s too grim,” he explained. 

Thor complained about something else, “Red? Again?” 

“You look good in red!” Loki defended. 

“That is because I,” Thor pressed his fingers to his chest, “look great in everything, even and especially black. You just need to use your creativity, brother.”

“Did I not just do that?” Loki said. When Thor opened his mouth to complain again, he raised his hand as a warning. “Are you going in that suit or am I putting the brisingamen on you?” Unfortunately for Thor, he knew this was a battle he would lose. 

“Fine,” he conceded begrudgingly. Loki beamed. He checked himself out in the mirror again. 

“You look very handsome, Your Majesty,” Loki went on. “Very royal. Very smart.” Because obviously, he needed to compliment his own work. He extended his hand. 

Thor looked at it. “What is that?” he asked. 

“My hand,” Loki said. “Take it so we can go, we’re teleporting.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you!” Thor grinned. “I booked us a taxi.”

“A what?” Loki spat. 

“A taxi?” Thor shrugged. “You know, it’s a yellow car with a thing on top that lights up—”

“I know what a taxi is!” Loki snapped. Immediately after, he looked disappointed, waving at his brother’s suit again. “I just made you look like a king and now we’re getting in a taxi? Don’t they have…chariots here or something!” 

“Aw, come on. It’ll be fun!” Thor insisted, beaming. He grabbed a coat from a chair as he headed out. “Besides, we’ll be fashionably late. I learned that from you, Loki.”

“We are _already_ very late as it is!” Loki argued, chasing after his brother. 

Thor held the door open, stopping him. He smiled. “So we better get moving.”


	14. Mind

Loki was miserable for most of the trip—which was to say that he was miserable for the entirety of it. 

He had not expected the taxi driver they had hired to be a huge fan of Thor and he had never made them forget about it for even one second. He had proven this by demonstrating his encyclopedic knowledge of Thor’s life (although it bears noting that about 90% of it was new to Loki—for instance that he had a cat named Mew Mew), asking for several selfies including several poses (“Okay, okay, now you punch me!”) all of which Thor indulged because why shouldn’t he? And even crying when Thor had signed his coffee cup (“I’m never throwing this away,” he moaned).

It was no wonder that when they finally arrived at the exhibit, Thor was practically glowing like the sun. He had a stupid smile on his face, and he was laughing to himself while Loki glared at the waving taxi. He left his brother on the street as he marched up to the gallery. 

“We’re not getting another taxi going home,” Loki insisted as they started to explore, a glass of wine in each their hand, a pamphlet in the other. 

Thor hadn’t yet quite come down from his high when he chuckled. Loki swore the very stars seemed to sparkle in his eye when he looked at the framed pictures. He’d offered to reproduce Thor’s missing eye, at least temporarily, but his brother had refused, perhaps because it was a painful reminder. Loki understood and never asked again. “I thought you enjoyed staring out the window and watching the city pass by.”

“Oh yes,” Loki rolled his eyes for what must have been the thousandth time within half an hour. “Surely I must have enjoyed myself hearing about how my great and famous brother loved the Midgardian children so much, he cried in the middle of an orphanage once.”

“Ahh, Loki. You just don’t know what Midgardian children are like.”

Loki stopped Thor there, grabbing his wrist to turn him around. “Did you really do that?” When Thor only smiled at him, he asked again more insistently, “Thor, did you really!” 

“Oh there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

It was a classic situation Loki had found himself in, for far too many times than he cared to admit. Someone would be looking for them, he and Thor would be caught in one of their many schemes, or bickering or worse, quarreling with each other. 

He did, at least, manage to keep his gasp to himself when he turned and beamed at his friend. He was always so good at changing faces, after all. “Zoe,” he greeted her brightly, reaching for the woman with his right arm. “And there _you_ are—the star of the night!”

“Don’t let Nita hear you say that, she wouldn’t like it very much,” Zoe giggled. She was dressed this time in a black gown that cut deep between her breasts and covered her arms in flowing sleeves. Nita was the other artist exhibiting tonight. 

“I’m sure Nita would agree with me,” Loki said as he took her hand, her nails painted white, and kissed her cheek. He stood next to her, wrapped an arm behind her so that they were hip to hip. Turning them both to face Thor who smiled and waved, he began his introductions. “Zoe, may I present to you my brother—” 

“Oh my God, you’re Thor,” Zoe gasped, staring at his brother. “From The Avengers, right?” 

“Uh, yes, that—that’s me. Hello,” Thor said, reaching to shake Zoe’s hand. It was so obvious on his face that he was struggling not to grin at Loki who, in turn, was also struggling not to glare at his brother. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, seriously,” Zoe said, accepting his hand. She turned to Loki then in mild surprise. “I didn’t know you knew Thor!” 

“As apparently everyone does!” Loki said, smiling tightly at Thor. Thor winked at him. 

“What did you say he was?” 

“My friend,” Loki lied instantly. “He’s my friend. We met while he was umm…out avenging.”

“I saved his life,” Thor said. 

“He hurt his eye. He really wasn’t being very careful.”

“Oh no, is it bad?” Zoe asked, whirling at Thor. 

“No, it’s fine! It’s fine.” Thor touched his eyepatch briefly. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Oh, you really are so strong.” Zoe was visibly in awe. 

“That’s what they call me,” Thor laughed. “The strongest Avenger,” he said, grinning at Loki. Loki, in turn, rolled his eyes and gulped down his wine in one go. 

They stood and chatted for a little longer, with Thor being the Interesting Friend to whom every question was directed. Loki slipped in time and again, but mostly to reassert his position as Zoe’s Friend. 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Zoe broke off suddenly. She turned to Loki to touch his arm, which flattered him simply because she hadn’t chosen Thor. “I knew there was a reason why I was looking for you. I want to show you something that I did. Come on!” 

She led them past several rows of painted pictures, some Loki recognized from her studio, others he figured were by her friend. She said hi to the guests they had passed, waved at them but otherwise kept moving. She had company, after all. 

“This is it,” she said, stopping them in front of a canvas that consumed its entire wall. It was an intimate picture, of two women under covers, asleep perhaps after a night of passion. Their balcony was open, and past its flowing drapes was a hill surrounded by green, a splash of blue to one side, a skirt of clouds near its top. 

“It’s one of my and Nita’s collaboration,” Zoe explained as Thor and Loki observed the artwork. “Do you recognize it?” 

“I…” Loki began but turned instead to Zoe, smiling as he said, “Sorry, I was too busy admiring. What was your question?” 

Zoe rolled her eyes but she was smiling. “The hill in the background. Do you recognize it? It’s in Norway.”

In truth, Loki had asked her to repeat the question while he was trying to put together a bluff but that hadn’t been all that helpful. He didn’t know what the hill in the background was, of course. Shame it wasn’t Asgard. 

Loki looked again, shooting Thor a look. Thor blissfully pretended he wasn’t there. “Hmm…ahh, yes, it’s just at the tip of my tongue—”

“Zoe!” It was a man’s voice. 

Zoe turned and did a jump. She waved and excused herself, hurrying to a black man whose height she matched as they embraced. 

Loki was glad for this development. He faced the picture again, this time trying to come up with something to bail him out of the question. 

Thor leaned towards him and whispered, “Liar!” 

Loki shushed him, glaring at him. 

“You don’t know what this place is!” 

“Well, why don’t _you_ tell me what place this is,” Loki hissed back. 

“I don’t know what this place is either,” Thor confessed. “Let’s just get out of here, there are more pictures to look at.”

“We’ll look too suspicious,” Loki said, still whispering. They regarded the picture again in wary silence. 

“Wait a second,” Thor said suddenly, stepping closer to the picture. “I think I do know what this place is.”

“Thor, I know you’ve been better at lying to me but this isn’t one of your best lies.”

“No, I do,” Thor insisted. “This is Asgardia.”

“Asgardia?” Loki moved closer to the painting then, trying to remember what it looked like . “You’re sure?” 

“Yes, I remember the clouds,” Thor went on, pointing to them. 

“Huh,” Loki said, taking a step back. He tried to imagine the place in his head in comparison to the picture he now saw. Thor followed him, hands on his sides, perhaps doing the same thing.


	15. Books

“Malnesberget!” Loki announced with a triumph, shifting and bouncing on the mattress to get comfortable with this discovery. He sat on crossed legs, bent over the guide between his hands. “That’s it. That’s what the hill is called.” He flipped the page and read on.

“Yes, that’s nice, now get off my bed, Loki!”

“You’re busy packing,” Loki protested, turning another page. Though coming from the mouth of the God of Lies, that was, in fact, true. Earlier he’d come in to a room full of suitcases butterflied open while Thor—in a simple shirt and floral board shorts—went around his room taking this clothing and that spray and tossing them to whichever suitcase they belonged to. Loki had found the guide then, scattered among its siblings in one of the bags, grabbed it, started to read—then started to get comfortable.

“Yes, and aren’t you?” Thor asked, throwing his hands at his brother who ignored him for the sake of information. He was concentrating, his wrinkled brows said as much. “You didn’t even take your shoes off!”

“Then just change the linen.”

“Go back to packing!” Thor pointed him out the door.

“I’m done,” Loki lied.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No. You’re _not_.”

Thor snatched the book from his hands. Loki stared at him as if the King of Asgard had just stolen candy from a street child, mouth round and open and all. “Hey, I was reading that!”

“Read it in the plane,” Thor said, tossing the book back where Loki had taken it. “We’re leaving in eight hours so get. Packing.” Having delivered his order for, perhaps, the tenth time since Loki came in, he left the room.

Loki fell back on his elbows, gazing after Thor’s wake. “You know, I miss the Bifrost,” he stated it as a matter of fact. “You know, we never had to go through all this...packing and stuff when we had the Bifrost. In fact,” excitement pulled him back to sit up, elbows on his knees as he regarded the empty, open door, “you should get our engineers to build the Bifrost here! You’re a king, you require safe passage. Then we’ll no longer have to do all this,” he swept his arm over the mess that was Thor’s room, “whenever we want to visit or go somewhere else. But,” he raised a finger to his absent audience, squaring his shoulders, “it must be limited to official use. Our use,” he referred to himself here, “for instance. Can’t risk it being misused, after all.” He had a smile ready, a proud one, for when Thor returned.

Thor reappeared with a mop, brandished like the gungnir. “Are you going to pack or not?”

Loki raised his hands in surrender then, and faded in a shimmer of gold.


	16. Deal

“Loki! Look.”

For someone of Thor’s volume and largeness, that was already a whisper. Loki, however, was no longer surprised that he heard it still, loudly and clearly (although perhaps, his ears were just wired to pick up Thor’s voice wherever, having been raised next to him), from across one shop—and in an airport teeming with people.

He shut the book he was browsing (a young fiction inspired by his attack on New York) and turned, brows knitted as ever, to his brother. Thor was beaming and waving a packet of chocolate biscuits of a similar design to something he had already packed with his things. “Don’t you already have that?” he asked as he returned the book and approached his brother.

“No, it’s a different flavor,” Thor said, inspecting his discovery again. “And it’s 10% off!”

“Should you really buy it simply on account of that?” Loki asked. Meanwhile, he had his eyes set on a fat bottle of wine which he picked up from a lower shelf. “The discount won’t mean much if you’ll just spend for the sake of it, will it?”

“Well, the fur coat won’t mean much if a jotunn wears it,” Thor replied, putting weight on his answer by grabbing several more of the packets. “It’s not even on discount!”

“Hey,” Loki hit him on his arm. They both glared at each other. “Leave my fur coat alone. And fur coats are nice! You just need to have an appreciation for the finer things, Thor.”

“I do have an appreciation for the finer things, Loki,” Thor said, turning back to him as he approached the counter. “And they’re called: sales.” Obviously, he was just buying them now to spite his brother. He smiled at him.

Loki rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. Why do they even bother talking?


	17. Avoid

As soon as they appeared in the horizon, the people hushed down to silence—not out of fear, he thought, but more out of awe.

Otherwise, Loki would still hear the gentle murmur, the stonework, the woodwork, the children playing or reciting verse. On the other side of Malnesberget—which he and Thor had scaled to reach their destination—was a plain as wide as any that could be imagined. This was a pocket universe of sorts which they had prepared, and _had_ been prepared for them with the help of the sorceror Strange, for the people of Asgard seeking refuge in Midgard. This was what they called Asgardia.

Loki did not expect the relief of being back in it, of coming home to Asgardian soil dressed as an Asgardian, of seeing Heimdall guarding the gates as was his life’s sworn duty to the throne (“I saw you coming.” “Yes, yes, yes…”). They allowed the gatekeeper to escort them, although he no longer had need to announce their arrival to prepare the people to receive their king.

Upon his approach, the people bowed, some kneeling, like flowers closing up their petals for the day. “My King,” Loki heard some of them sigh as he followed closely, or, “Your Majesty,” before they dipped their heads and looked away in deference. Thor smiled at each of them as he parted the welcoming crowd, making way for himself. “Hello,” he said to them, nodding in return. “Hello…”

This was the King of Asgard, Loki realized again suddenly—a man who did not know how to act as the throne might dictate of him. He loved the people too much; he cannot see the throne without them. Loki felt pleased to watch him receive his subjects’ respect and adoration that they gazed after him long after he had passed, and he felt even _more_ pleased when they offered him the same treatment as he looked and smiled. He was their savior, after all, during Ragnarok. Also their prince.

Someone had come up then to put a stop to their returning king’s walk, dressed in her armor—the official one, the one she’d worn as she fought Hela on the Bifrost—and apparently that gave her the right to stand in her king’s way and regard him with her fists on her sides, as if he were a bandit with a bad debt. “Hi,” she said with little regard.

“Hello,” Thor greeted back, smiling.

“So you’re back.”

“So I’m back.”

“Back for good?”

Thor frowned, nose wrinkled, and tossed his head sideways. “Just for a bit.”

“Surprised you still remembered us,” Brunnhilde said. She nodded back over her shoulder. “This way to the plaza, then. Everyone wants to see you, Your Majesty.”

“Good because I,” Thor swung his backpack off his shoulder and raised it for the woman to see, “come bearing gifts for everyone.” The response to which was excitement all around which delighted Thor, who beamed at his people. Even Brunnhilde had received the news with a happy smirk. “Everyone, follow me.”

They were like sheep, moving as one behind their shepherd, a giddy people where once they were struck dumb with loyalty. Loki would wait the people out before he, too, moved. With everyone in the plaza, it would be a good opportunity to explore Asgardia, see what had become of it.

Clearly a plan that Brunnhilde didn’t encourage. She stayed where she stood, still in the same posture, but this time with something of a frown directed to her prince.

Loki smiled at the warrior. “Hello, Valkyrie,” he said.

Brunnhilde rolled her eyes and decided he wasn’t worth much her attention. She turned then to join the flock. Loki smirked. He supposed they wouldn’t be seeing much of each other from now on.


	18. Soft

“Who is that?” 

Loki had asked the question as he came up to the sculpture of a warrior—bald, with fangs up his round head and long guns pointed up, glaring at the unseen enemies who dared to cross his way. He was only one among many other figures of history wrought in stone who stood in what would soon be a monument dedicated to their fallen heroes, where they would be honored by the people they had served. The question had been addressed to the sculptor who stood atop a tall ladder next to the statue.

“Oh, him? Oh, that’s Skurge,” someone else answered instead—someone with a singsong voice from the direction of Volstagg’s sculpture which forever memorialized him with an axe in one hand, a mug of ale in the other, and a boisterous laugh in his face. “Saw him jump off the ship and start shootin’ down zombies. He never made it out alive but we made it because of him.” He waved when Loki had turned to him. “Hey man, remember me? My name’s Korg, I’m made of—”

“Rocks, yes, I remember you very well,” Loki snapped with a difficult smile on his face. It had been a surprise for him to see the kronan standing among stone masons and might have made the effort to say hello if he didn’t think he talked too much for someone made of rocks. “Have you seen my brother?” he asked immediately. That had been what led him there, after all, past several rows of stone houses and other structures where once, there had only been tents and plans. Time on Midgard passed swiftly, but they were Asgardians who were built to break such boundaries. 

“Ahh, nope. Can’t say I have.” Korg pointed to the direction of the plaza which was exactly where Loki had come from. “He had a meeting in the plaza but that’s done now.” He turned to Loki. “Reckon you might want to ask Bruce instead.”

“Bruce?” Loki repeated the name in confusion, which was also painted on his face. “Why would I ask the beast? He can’t even form a sentence with three words in it.” He would never admit, of course, that he’d been on the lookout for the giant green monster since his arrival and wasn’t keen on another close encounter with the beast.

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Korg said sincerely. “You know, I help out with the school sometimes and the kids there are already learning how to write paragraphs. Really smart little ones. Maybe he’d like to come and join us one day.” Loki barely bit back a groan. “Anyway, I saw him leave with Thor after the meeting.”

“Thor?” Loki frowned, eyes furrowed deeply. He couldn’t remember seeing a beast of that size anywhere near his brother—

Oh, but he did remember seeing his brother jump off the stage and shake someone in his arms, beaming brightly. The man had been small, a bit too short for an Asgardian although he dressed like one, and had grabbed his brother back as if he were his friend and not his king.

So _that_ had been Bruce. The man had managed to keep his true nature at bay again. Perhaps that was why Thor had been laughing so happily.

As he did now—Loki heard him from across a great distance, the sound carried by the wind along with the scent of the sea. He left Korg and the masons to their work then and followed, stepping carefully. The grass here now was tall and wild, the earth uneven with only the barest suggestion of a trail.

But it did lead him down to the beach, which was an empty stretch of nothing but sand on one side and rolling waves on the other, not normally something that Thor was fond of but there he was, picking up something from the ground and pitching it at the sea. He hooted after some time, eye on the horizon, throwing his arms up like a boy with nothing better to do. Someone had booed him for this.

Someone…who most definitely was not Bruce Banner. Who walked with a swagger as she shoved her bottle to Thor’s stomach and told him, “Hold my beer.” Her blue cape was off, but her hair was still free as the wind as she searched for what might be a stone beneath her feet, caught it once with her hand and with a running start threw it to the sea. Loki couldn’t see the result, but he assumed she had conquered her king’s distance when Brunnhilde had turned to Thor with an arrogant shrug. Thor shook his head, drank from the bottle, and passed it back so he could regain his honor. Brunnhilde told him to take his time while she sat on the sand, bottle on her lips. Thor advised her to watch and learn.

Loki was only too happy to receive his king’s instructions—so he sat down comfortably from behind the cover of the grasses, focused his ears on the both of them, and watched and learned.


	19. Forgive

“Is it true what I heard, then?” Loki asked, watching the city pass slowly from his place by the window. “The beast has expressed his intention to be a part of Asgardia for good?”

“Have care how you speak, Loki. We’re no longer in Asgardia.”

They were, in fact, in Bjorvika—or at least that was what the bus stop was called. Either way, they were a long way from home—specifically an entire plane ride away after Thor and Loki had made the decision to explore this new land they were now squatting in. Thor had called it a business trip. Loki liked to think there was more to it than that.

The man just across the aisle next to Thor smiled prettily at him and twiddled his fingers as he got up to leave. Thor smiled back and nodded. Loki no longer bothered to make a comment—he was tired of it. The doors were shut. They moved on.

Thor went back to his guide book, recently purchased from the central station. “It’s true what you heard. Banner has spoken to me about becoming an Asgardian citizen.”

“What was it that he liked?”

“Oh you know, it was a lot of science this, science that. Bunch of nerdy stuff,” Thor snorted. “He was like…ohhh! Your universal language is so great! Oh, technology and advancement, oh, science, oh, physics. Blah, blah, blah.” Loki tittered at his cheap impersonation while Thor chuckled. “But if you must ask me, I think it’s the peace that he likes.”

Loki turned to Thor then with a raised brow. “Peace is not a word I am used to hearing about us.”

“Well no,” Thor said, smiling slightly. “But when we left him in Asgardia, he was a hulk whose only friends were Brunnhilde, Korg and Miek. Somewhere along the way, he must have been capable of transforming back to himself. And you know, that only happens when he’s no longer stressed. In fact,” he went on, “I heard that before he was recruited by Fury to join the Avengers, he was happily living in squalor in this remote area in um…India, that’s another place here in Midgard. But he was hiding, and focusing on his work to help others. And I think that was something he found again in Asgardia.”

“And will you allow him?” Loki asked after a thoughtful pause.

“Yes, why not?” Thor answered after one of his own, facing his brother. “We’re refugees looking for refuge, he’s no different from us. And he has fought with me as an Avenger, he’s fought with us on the Bifrost. You remember, he was the one who killed that giant dog of our sister’s.”

“Still can’t believe Odin was keeping that thing right under our noses.”

“I know, so can’t I,” Thor agreed. “But he’s gone now, thanks to Banner. And if we must be archaic about it, then he has earned his place in my table.”

“So you’ll actually do it?” Loki pressed on. They spoke quietly to each other as the bus drove on. “You will make him Asgardian, you will make him a citizen?”

“I told him I’ll think about it and so should he. The privilege of a dual citizen between Asgard and America is so far only limited to me, I don’t know the procedures of adding another one. Why are you frowning at me like that, what’s wrong with you?” Thor frowned back. “If you’re worried he’s going to smash you again like a worm, I can assure you, I know how to calm him down.”

“If you’re talking about that little speech about the sunset or whatever fairy tale that was, I highly advise you to reconsider now because the last time I saw you try that trick, it didn’t work.” Loki tried not to smirk but failed a little. Thor glared at him. He glared back and changed the conversation. “How are you not worried about this? He’s your rival!”

“At what!”

“Brunnhilde!”

The bus stopped again. Both passengers behind both brothers got up to leave. Loki turned to look at the window while Thor picked up his guidebook again. Two more passengers came in to take their place. The bus moved again.

“Don’t let Brunnhilde hear that or she’ll gut you like a fish,” Thor warned, flipping the page.

“Well fortunately for me, I can swim like one,” Loki replied, turning to him. “Brother, between the two of us, I’m not the blind idiot.”

The one-eyed man gave him another frown. “Hey,” he said.

“You said so yourself, Bruce’s only friend is Brunnhilde,” Loki spoke quickly, “And Brunnhilde seems to like the guy.”

“They have been friends since Sakaar, what do you think?”

“I’m glad you asked. Because I think if you don’t make a move now, your friend is going to make a move on _his_ only friend and _you_ , are going to have to come up with a different excuse about why you never became official, that isn’t mutual dumping.” Loki paused briefly in thought. “Come to think of it though, that would actually be a good thing. It would have meant that you, actually managed to ask her to be your girlfriend before she dumped you.”

“Hey,” Thor wagged a finger at Loki. “Enough. And when I ask her to be my girlfriend, you can bet she’s not dumping me.”

Loki spread his arms wide, gaping at Thor. “Finally!” he whispered triumphantly. “Now you’re talking sense.” Thor opened his mouth to make a protest but he ignored him in favor of the window, at the city beyond. “All right, here’s our stop. Come on, there’s no time to lose!”

“What! Loki, this isn’t—” Loki shut his brother up by forcing himself through his seat, leaving him no choice but to get up and chase him down the aisle as the doors opened and Loki hopped out. “Loki!”

Thor jumped after him on the pavement. The doors closed then, and the bus drove on. Thor and Loki watched it leave from beside the stop sign. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Thor snarled.

“Of course I do, what do you take me for?” Smiling cheekily at Thor, Loki finally explained his plan, “We’re getting her a knife.”

“A knife? From here?” Thor said, looking around almost in bewilderment. He stuffed his hands inside the pockets of his worn jacket. “She won’t like that, she already has Dragonfang. There’s no better blade out there than Dragonfang!”

“Thor, please, I assure you. The only thing that’s better than one knife is two knives,” he replied. “Come on, brother,” he smiled, “don’t you trust me?”

“Umm…” Thor’s eye shifted sideways briefly before he answered with a quick, “No?” And smiled at Loki, as if he’d asked him a weird joke.

Loki groaned. Fine, he had a point there. “I mean, when it comes to knives,” he explained. “You have to admit that my taste with the blade is far superior than anyone you may know! Let me help you out, brother. Besides, it certainly beats a six-pack of beer. Why would you even give her that? That’s hardly romantic.”

“And a knife is romantic?” Thor countered. “Besides, she enjoyed the beer. I thought she liked them.” He shifted on his feet, crossing his arms.

Loki shook his head and smiled. “She’s a Valkyrie, not some drunkard who knows how to swagger with a knife. Anyway, you got better ideas?” He waited for Thor to speak, but the man thought it would be better to just stare at him and frown instead. Loki beamed in satisfaction. “Good! We’re getting her a knife.”


	20. Sharp

It had been two days since Thor had left for Asgardia with Loki’s blessings. Left on his own then until his brother’s return, he spent his time in the small town of Stokmarknes in a most idyllic fashion. He visited museums, art galleries, ate in restaurants, spent the night in another man’s bed and did some hiking and some shopping on his own.

“I’m guessing you’d spent all the money I left you, then,” Thor said as he shrugged off his backpack and gestured to the dartboard that hung on the white wall where a picture frame should have been.

“Of course,” Loki said, smiling happily, proud and delighted of himself, “you know how much I hate disappointing you, dear brother.” Facing his new toy, he threw a dart at its face.

He didn’t wait to see where it had landed (right at the nose, of course) before he pulled himself to face Thor on his bed, working his foot out of his boot. “So,” he began a little excitedly, elbows on his knees, twirling another dart, the last one between his fingers. “What did she say?” 

“Don’t pry on other people’s conversations, Loki, you know that’s rude,” Thor answered, but the little smirk that was dancing on his face could hardly be missed. 

“Isn’t it a bit too late to be reminding me of that now?” Loki rolled his eyes but persisted. “Come on, you know what I mean! I’m sure she liked it.”

“If you already know the answer, then why keep asking?” Thor laughed, pulling the other shoe free. “I thought you were smarter than that?” 

“And you won’t even thank me?” Loki called to him as he got up to leave, his boots between his fingers. “Hey,” he tried again, only to be ignored. He raised his hand then, “Thor!” and set the dart free. 

Thor jumped when he caught it squarely in the meat of his arm with a yelp, dropping his boots in shock. “What the hell—Loki!” he roared, whipping to glare at his brother. “Really?!”

“I’m sorry,” Loki said, putting his hands up. “I wasn’t the one who wasn’t looking.” Which did nothing to please Thor, who only shook his head at him and left. Unfortunately for him, Loki did not feel discouraged yet. “Oh come on, what’s two words going to do to your pride? Thor!” He waited for a response—a shout, a middle finger, anything—but met with a silence, Loki finally got up to chase after him. “Thor, come on, just say it!”


	21. Teeth

“You know, there’s got to be a hunting ground around here, somewhere.”

To answer his question, Thor only smirked, his face illuminated by the fireplace he watched, shadows exaggerated by the darkness that surrounded him. They were back in their apartment away from Norway, their home away from home. Loki stood with his weight on the doorframe, his arms crossed. 

“Getting antsy?” his brother had asked. 

“Aren’t you?” Loki snorted, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. “This place is dead. No one does anything here except to drive. Or walk. Or drink coffee or go to shops. Watch movies.”

“I thought you liked the theater?”

“I’ve seen all that I care to see,” Loki scowled, fixing his eyes on his brother. “And I thought _you_ liked to hunt. You were always the one who insisted on carrying our kill over your shoulder, taking the long way home so that everyone would see you.”

Thor said nothing, only smiled. Later on, he looked around, the sparkle in his blue eye piercing the darkness, gazing upwards wherever the light didn’t touch. “This place is a little boring, isn’t it?” he said suddenly. 

_Boring_ would not be how Loki would choose to describe it. _Empty_ suited him better. 

Loki gestured at the blank space over the mantel. “Needs the head of a Bilgesnipe.”

“You can’t seriously miss that,” Thor laughed. “That thing was disgusting! I thought you hated it?” 

“Because you loved it but when you got tired of it, I began to love it.” He smiled slightly. “Mother loved it, too. Your first kill!”

“She’s the only reason why I was able to stand that thing for as long as I did,” Thor laughed, grinning a little. With a decisive slap on the arms of his sofa, then, he pushed himself up to his feet. “Come on, we’re going out.”

“We’re going hunting?” Loki felt surprised and excited. He didn’t think there were any hunting grounds near here! 

“In a manner of speaking.” Thor disappeared behind his door, the train of his thin robe flowing after him. “Come on, we don’t have all night.”

And that would be because the stores wouldn’t be open all night. 

“Christmas shopping?” Loki spat in shock, staying close to his brother’s side. “We don’t even celebrate Christmas!” 

“Who says we can’t?” Thor laughed, gazing around, at the colorful lights, the dancing ones, the trees that sparkled. Their joy was reflected on his blue eye, the color in his cheeks. “Come on, it’s sort of like hunting! Only the prey doesn’t bite and you’re not fighting it, you’re fighting every other predator who wants it.”

“That doesn’t sound like hunting at all,” Loki muttered, burying his hands deep in his outer coat’s pockets. They were already out there, though, and he was stuck with his brother, or risk getting swallowed by the holiday crowd without a chance of being spat out. 

Perhaps he was meant to remember the days when they were younger, and would sneak out of the castle in their servants’ clothes. Thor often liked to speak of that time, like a trophy. The only difference was that those days were more exciting and dangerous for them, with Loki’s magic being flaky at best. But now that he had mastered his illusions, the challenges have become fewer and farther between. 

And there was no one to hide from here. No guards seeking them under their king’s orders, no angry crowd screaming vengeance on whatever mischief Loki had pulled Thor into. Those days had been fun. 

Tonight, they were out to look for decorations, lights to spruce up the apartment. It was just as Thor said—no one, nothing out here would bite. 

Loki looked up to his brother, at his blue eye dazzling, his white smile as he flashed a grin at his brother. And he knew then what hopelessness looked like.


	22. Dying

Should he do it? 

An easy question, but with such a difficult answer—even for the God of Mischief himself who always says, _Why not?_ He was already there, though—looking over him, standing at his side, his fingers wrapped around the hilt of a blade. 

It would be so easy. Thor was asleep, unsuspecting. He lied on his back, the night sky on his skin, and left his heart unguarded. All he needed to do then was to plunge the knife, as he’d done so many times in the past. It should be easier now, in this dim, quiet room where no one watched, no one listened. The only sounds he could hear were Thor’s easy breathing, his pulse beating in his ears, the cars purring under their windows, an aircraft cutting the skies. He listened closely to them all, made sure nothing was amiss, just as he ticked off a list of errors of the past, each mistake repaired by a lesson. 

But even then, even as his arm recalled the familiar tension, he kept the question running in his head—should he do it? Should he do it? Should he do it? He wanted to do it, he wanted to see what would happen. He had to—was the fire still there? The electric rage and the horror shooting up his bones? He seemed so different now from the mountain that he knew. That man could never stay still, or be so easily satisfied by what he had. It almost seemed as if that god who raged and shook the skies that one night here in Midgard was no more than a fickle of his imagination now—and that frightened him. 

He had to find that man, create him himself if he had to. Loki fell upon Thor—like the guillotine serving his doom.


	23. Rock

A flash of blue skies was the first thing that he saw. 

And then he was on his back, death upon his throat, like a blow of lightning that struck him dumb. Loki couldn’t remember crying—in fact, he couldn’t remember much at all that wasn’t the dull pain on his neck or the pounding in his head and his back—but when he tried, he found that there was no relief in it. The weight on his throat only tightened still, like a snake. 

And then he began to panic. The knife was gone when he struggled, writhed, fingers shooting up to claw at the hand that choked him but it was as immovable as a mountain, as he always thought his brother was—impressive, larger than life. Loki made a noise that was a whimper and a wheeze, something undecided, but Thor did not answer. 

He only glared down to him, the darkest frown on his face, only briefly illuminated by white hot streaks that traveled along his silhouette. He dared him to dare and when Loki did, he only squeezed tighter, just the slightest shift to punish him for trying, and then daring him again. He was a flash of blue—no longer of fair skies—in a room full of night, cold and terrifying. Like lightning. 

Loki stared widely, picking up the scent of burning air as a distant thunder boomed. His mouth gaped open and he coughed. Once, twice, until he couldn’t stop. He sounded like an old dog, or an engine with too much rust, trying to start. Thor loosened his grip slightly, but that was enough. 

Soon, Loki would be breathing—and cackling freely. And when he writhed this time, it was only because he was bursting with glee.


	24. Sick

This was how Loki saved himself, then—not by his wit or his skill, but by his sense of humor. 

By then, he was already too far gone to notice much else than the pain in his neck and the one in his stomach, what with all that laughing. Even Thor, for all the threat that he’d posed on his brother until recently, somehow managed to disappear as if he was just his imagination. He knew he was still there, though—a man of that size would not easily be capable of hiding his presence. 

Arms tight around his midsection, Loki rolled to his side to find him, on his ass, as if he’d just stumbled and fallen backwards, staring back in half-bewilderment where once, there was only murder in his eyes. Loki could not have expected how easily he could shift from one man to the next—and that made him laugh again. 

Thor shook his head in disbelief. “Why are you so weird!” he demanded, his voice practically begging for an answer. 

“Would you love me any less if I wasn’t?” Loki rasped, pushing himself up slightly on his side by an elbow. His head still felt like someone was wringing it like a wet rag, and his heart was still too over-excited to let him breathe. All in all, it was a chore to move or to speak at all but damn the devil if they thought they could stop Loki in his high. “You can’t resist me, Thor,” he hissed triumphantly, grinning. “Not even if you tried!” 

“So you attempted to murder me so you can prove your point?” Thor bellowed. 

“It’s just as you said,” Loki tried to clear the needles from his throat. “You trust me, I betray you, round and round we go. It’s a cycle, Thor. And it feeds on you as much as you feed it!” He started to laugh again, teeth flashing in a manic beam, eyes sparkling. He remembered the first time he had played a trick on Thor and it had worked. And Thor had erupted in a feat of hatred, promising him the most violent revenge but with nothing to show for it because he had already won. And Thor had lost because he’d defeated him unquestionably. He remembered, then, how it felt to be alive. To be in your element where nothing could go wrong. 

“And that’s all that matters to you, doesn’t it?” Thor growled, shifting himself to his feet and his knees, becoming like the man that had almost killed his brother again. “This cycle of yours, this…this madness of yours!”

“Or perhaps you’ve simply forgotten all about it,” Loki suggested, smiling. “This place has done you a great disservice; it’s simply too predictable. Too safe, too…easy.” He shook his head. “This life was never suited for you, Son of Odin.” 

“Don’t confuse yourself with me, Loki, I’m not the one who tried to kill me for the hell of it!” Thor growled. He glowered at him, and he had a look about his face that if it hadn’t been for the distance between them, he might finally throttle him and break his neck. When he breathed, Loki could see it even in the darkness—he was like a dragon about to belch fire. “Get out of my face before I return the favor.”

“All right, all right…” Loki was giggling, his hands raised. He moved carefully, and slowly to his knees; he didn’t want to overbalance, and that was easier said than done with a body that was practically set alight by pain. “Just give me a second. You sort of made sure I wouldn't be able to move easily—”

“I said—!” Thor had grabbed him by the arm and the hem of his robe, tearing the silk as he forced Loki up to his feet. Loki couldn’t fight back, too stunned by his brother’s brutality that he’d forgotten how to command his legs. But that didn’t stop Thor from pitching him out of his room as he roared, “ _—get out!!_ ”

He smashed onto some furniture, upsetting it. Loki’s elbow rang with an as yet unknown pain when he raised it to protect himself from the slamming of Thor’s door. And then suddenly, there was silence. 

He hiccuped, and laughed again. Because what else was there to do but to laugh and keep laughing? Loki forced the sound off his chest as he lied on his back on the floor. He’d done it, he thought. He’d finally done it! 

As for the consequences of his actions, he would much rather not think of them for now.


	25. Broken

The skin around his neck still felt tender, surrounded by the black shape of Thor’s grip. Loki tested it lightly, looking at the mirror, but pulled back sharply with a pained, “Ah!” As if he’d been burnt by his own actions. It would be some time until it would heal completely and he could turn his head in peace, without feeling like he was strangling himself with a noose. Thor had made sure of that. With a quiet huff, he covered it up with his magic. He was good at that. 

When he stepped back out to the living room, Thor was still nowhere in sight. In fact he hadn’t seen him at all since he was thrown out the door. Loki couldn’t remember hearing his brother leave last night, although he had slept fitfully, having been battered and all. He never knew that man to move quietly. 

At least not when it was inconvenient for him. Well now he was gone—he had looked everywhere—and Loki didn’t know where he might be, or when he was coming back. The silence felt strange to the skin, and the space made him feel alien even to himself. There was suddenly so much than he knew what to do with! Even time had become his enemy, leaving him with nothing to do except to wait. He had never really imagined this could happen. He didn’t know what to expect after that stunt he pulled but it definitely wasn’t this—Thor’s absence. His persistent non-existence. 

Loki didn’t like it. It made him feel antsy, uncertain, and he liked neither of them any better. He had to do something about this. He couldn’t stay stuck in this quandary forever. 

With a shuffling limp, he was brought to his bedroom, his mind blank and aimless. He lied down on his bed, his slippers still on, and crossed his arms behind his head even though it was painful, but this was important. He had no reason to change his habits, he couldn’t have any. Thor’s absence must be temporary, it couldn’t be any other. He shifted carefully until he was comfortable, or as comfortable as his map of bruises would let him. 

He hadn’t been on his back for too long when he heard the front door creak open, and slam shut. Loki was up before the pain could remind him of itself, but then it didn’t seem too bad now. Thor’s footsteps fell in quiet thunders as he moved about the apartment. Loki hadn’t noticed how widely he was beaming. Of course this would happen, he knew it all along! He was right, of course. He was right, again. 

“I knew you couldn’t keep away for too long,” he began as he danced out of his bedroom but stopped when an open bag fell upon his feet. Loki looked down at the empty thing, uncomprehending—or more honestly, unwilling to. He faced Thor then, his free smile fading hesitantly. Perhaps this wasn’t what he thought it was… 

“Pack up,” Thor ordered him with an immovable frown, crossing his bare arms over his chest like a warning. “You’re leaving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas!!


	26. Gone

It almost seemed as if he hadn’t been outside for the longest time. But the air smelled fresh, and his chest felt open and free in spite of recent events. 

He stood facing a long road, empty and wide with its ends nowhere in sight. It was flanked by a row of trees foreign to Loki, but unlike what any alien out in the wilds without a sure plan ought to feel, he saw no threat among them. Perhaps it was this feeling of being untethered, like a kite floating aimlessly in the wind. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing, but it certainly beat the heavy feeling of a man facing his sentence. It felt…a little strange, but it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with in a long time. 

From one end of the road, he heard the purr of a speeding car approach. He shifted his loaded pack more comfortably on his battered shoulder, and stretched out a fist, his thumb poking out. The car, one of those boxy types with practically no nose and squarish windows, appeared as a speck in the horizon. Holding his breath, Loki waited. The car came soon enough. 

And roared past him, leaving him only with a brief gust of the wind it had brought with it. Silence returned. Loki sighed, barely hiding his snarl. 

He shifted his belongings on his shoulder again, scanning his surroundings for a better savior. “You need better planning skills,” he criticized his companion. 

Thor smiled, eyes forward. “You didn’t like things the easy way and now you’re complaining?” Loki turned to him, brows high and arched sideways downwards, and would have smiled at the sight of him and his commentary if he hadn’t made the conscious effort to _not_ show him his delight, his amusement. His satisfaction. His relief. 

When Thor had ordered him to pack up, Loki had tried to negotiate, making all sorts of excuses that his brother refused to hear. Even when he did eventually get to it, he hemmed and hawed, making repeated trips in and out of his bedroom because he needed this or that, he swore he left it here, no, he might need that later. Whenever later was. He might not have finished at all, in fact, already sorting through the myriad of tricks up his sleeves to prevent the inevitable if he hadn’t caught Thor packing up his good socks, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Thor had tricked Loki. Again. Perhaps he ought not to forgive him for that, but Loki was happy to give this to him. 

Thor stepped out to the road, stretching out his thumb. “This looks like us,” he said of the growl drawing closer. Loki didn’t like that it was noisier than the first. “Trust me, I see this in the movies a lot.”

“Are you sure?” he asked anyway, gesturing to the red pickup signaling to them. “That thing looks like it might break down in the middle of the road.” And it did—it had old mud, old decals, some missing accessories and one of its headlights had a crack on it. 

“Then we’ll just have to hope it gets us where we have to go before that happens.” Thor grinned. True enough, the moving junk stopped for them, rolling down a window. Thor stepped closer and bent to show his face to the driver. She was a woman with small eyes, her long graying hair bound up to a sensible bun. 

“Hey,” she called to him. Her voice was grated by her years but was otherwise strong and clear. “You’re that guy with the hammer, arencha?” 

Thor smiled and shook his head. Loki thought that was a bad idea. 

But she waved him in, anyway. “Hop on,” she said, unlocking the door. 

Thor pulled it open and tossed his pack in. “Take the back,” he said. 

Loki shrugged off his own bag to toss it in the open back but stopped himself when he saw what was in store for him—piles of junk with little semblance of purpose, sacks that smelled like dirt, empty pots, cloth bags, a rolled up canvas and three plastic bags full of something. 

He turned to Thor, brows frowning. “There’s no room for me.”

“Then make one.”

“I won’t fit—”

Thor raised a finger to stop him. A warning. “You’ve lost your right to complain after that stunt you pulled. Now get in, or find your own ride.” He didn’t even look at Loki when he laid down his terms. He only got in at the front, and pulled the door shut. “Is he getting in?” he heard the woman ask. 

Loki tossed his bag in, then, and hopped in after it. He knew when to push Thor, and he knew this was not the time to try. After moving some pots to the side, stuffing a plastic bag, the canvas roll and other things in them, he managed to find a space in Thor’s corner where he could stretch his legs, even though he had to prop his feet up the sacks of dirt. He heard the engines hesitate, and then they were moving. 

He tried to get comfortable, shifting, half-listening to Thor and their driver’s conversation, his brother weaving some well-rehearsed half-truth. His place smelled richly of rust, old wood, and something that should have been left out to dry a little longer. Loki knocked on the glass between him and Thor then and signed, _This place stinks._ Thor replied with his left hand spelling, _Ignore._ Loki raised his middle finger. He’d been excited to learn that that was a universal language. Thor refused to have anything to do with him after that, though. 

So he sat back again, eyes drawn up to the skies. It was gray, but not dark. The wind was cool and pleasant to his skin, although that was only him. Thor had introduced himself as Donald Blake, and his brother as Walter, while the radio played something popular. 

Before long, he got used to the rhythm, the hum, the muffled voices behind the glass. His fingers started tapping on his tummy to the beat of the song.


	27. Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where this place is and have never done anything remotely like this so please bear with me and use your imagination liberally! :D

Loki remembered Utgard, the forests that surrounded it, lush in the summer of Jotunheim. They had been young then—barely adults, still practically children—when Thor had begged him to come with him in search of this disappearing castle in the realm of the Frost Giants. He remembered he had been flattered then, even though he knew it was only because Sif and Volstagg were away on a quest they had been raving about, and Fandral and Hogun had gone to Vanaheim to attend the funeral of Hogun’s relative, but he had milked it for all that it was worth. He’d said he couldn’t go because he of his studies, his training, his magic, some invented injury from some near-accident. He had made Thor work for his sweet _yes_ , and Thor had. He would talk to Odin to postpone some deadline, this would be a good challenge for Loki to test his skills, he would be there to protect him otherwise. Both of them knew Loki was going to come anyway from the moment Thor had asked him, but what was a little banter to make it more exciting? They had been happy then, two giddy fools who didn’t know what was coming for them.

Loki had been happy, then.

He jumped awake when the engines suddenly stopped with a bang. Loki turned towards Thor’s open door to ask him what had happened (he was starting to think he knew this was going to happen) when he spotted the man already next to him, fist on the side of the pickup. That had been the bang.

“Rise and shine,” Thor said.

Loki threw his pack to his face. Thor caught it and set it down next to his feet while Loki disembarked. He shouldered the bag before his brother could throw it back to him after he’d waved his thanks to the driver who honked goodbye. She drove on then, tail lights flashing in the blue hour.

Thor led the way up the mountain path at the side of the road, invisible if you weren’t looking for it. They had no compasses, no maps, at least nothing that Loki remembered them packing, but this wasn’t the first time they would pick their way purely on their instincts. They had done it in Asgard, in Jotunheim, in the many other realms that were connected to their homeworld by the Bifrost. They had done it just recently in Malnesberget, although they at least had a clue of what they were looking for there.

This was just slightly different, in that they didn’t know the trees and the forests and they had no place in mind, only that it was somewhere they’d like to lie down and spend the night in. Thor hadn’t even told Loki what it was they were doing out there; he’d only seen the items he’d packed and followed suit. 

Up and up, higher and higher still they climbed. It was getting darker, colder, and Loki’s various aches were already orchestrating a chorus of protests but damn if he let them slow him down. He would not let Thor catch him in his weakness so he kept up, keeping a closer eye on his feet, his surroundings—the rocks, the flora, the unseen fauna if they ever existed. When he did call Thor, it was only to hand him a knife he had conjured, just in case. He took the chance to look up then, at the time, the silver coin floating in the still-blue skies.

“Loki,” Thor called him.

He returned to his brother who nodded him onward. They would keep moving.

It was…a long trail, but not the most difficult Loki had hiked, even with his load and his bruises. Still, when Thor passed him his canteen, he only treated himself to two ample sips—he didn’t know how much farther they had, how many more times their path could turn, or if they would finally get stuck for good. The thought always occurred to him when they had noticed that the track had gone missing and everywhere was a straight ticket to nowhere. Eventually, they would find a way to continue the journey, though; they would listen, they would look closer. It was all instinctive, a habit they had learned as the children of Asgard, of Odin, who had too much time in their hands and too little people to keep them away from their own misadventures. Loki was perhaps lost in the middle of a foreign land—but this was familiar territory. And that was a comfort.

Whatever Thor’s reason was for bringing him here—maybe he was looking for a place to kill him and bury him finally, or to leave him to die—he was glad for this, this little slice of home.

They had lost their way again, and it was already dark enough for electric lights to be a necessity. Thor scouted the space to their left while Loki found himself wandering towards the other direction, listening to the wind, sniffing at the air.

“Thor,” he called, and nodded towards his discovery. A few steps from their fork, there was a pond, a perfect mirror for the skies. It was, perhaps, what some might call picturesque, although Loki could come up with better sights.

But Thor thought it was fine. He scanned the perimeter once, then nodded, giving his brother an affection pat on his shoulder for his work. Thor smiled at him, and he smiled back, pleased of what he had found. 

“Start a fire. I’ll look around for food,” Thor said, putting down his pack. That reminded Loki of his question.

“You know, you’ve never even told me what we’re here for,” he said to his brother’s back. Thor stopped then and looked around, knife in his hand.

“You’re here to start a fire,” Thor said, turning to him. “And I’m here to look for food.” Satisfied with his response, he smiled, and left.

Loki snorted. That wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but he supposed that was all he was getting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Utgard-Loki exists in the Marvel comic verse but I much prefer the one in the Prose Edda.


	28. Sky

After a silent dinner, Loki left the camp. There was a cliff he’d caught sight of, overlooking the pond, as he was making the fire and kept at the back of his head. Thor hadn’t mentioned anything that he wanted to do while the night was still young, so he took off on his own. He might as well make the most out of this impromptu excursion.

By then the night had turned several shades darker, and the stars had come out like fine dust scattered over the canvas. The moon hung somewhere out of sight from his current orientation. This time, it truly was picturesque.

“Here,” Thor said as he appeared, extending an open bottle to Loki. “Thought you might need this.”

“How very thoughtful of you,” Loki replied. He’d seen his brother leave the camp and had listened to his approach. They tapped glasses, toasting to their own silent thoughts, and drank to them.

Thor had placed himself right next to his brother to behold the same view, feet dangling. “Takes you back, doesn’t it? The stars, the cosmos.” He threw his hand to them.

“It does,” Loki agreed.

“I remember when we were children, we would sneak out of bed and race to the observatory to gaze at the stars,” Thor shared. “Heimdall was tasked to prevent us from passing, but he was never the most loyal man in the entire realm.” He smirked. “He would just stand there and watch us, memorizing stars and constellations. The ones we didn’t know, he would teach us. I learned more about the cosmos from him than I did our teacher.”

“You would have learned just as much as I have if you’d learned to read the maps,” Loki chided him.

“ _You_ actually _learned_ from her?” Thor cackled. “You just cheated your way through the whole course!”

“Yes, but I did still learn how to read the maps,” Loki insisted, raising a brow at Thor. “I just didn’t like the way she taught.”

“You were her favorite,” Thor reminded his brother. “I thought that was unfair.”

Loki shifted then, propping a foot up to face his brother, his forearm on his knee. “Is that why you brought me out here, then? To talk of childhood antics, reminiscing old grudges?”

“I thought you were the smart one?” Thor chuckled, facing his brother. “No, Loki, I took you out here because you were getting a little cabin fever-y in the apartment. You wanted to go hunting, you tried to kill me again so,” he shrugged, gesturing to the scenery again. “I thought you needed to unwind a little.”

“That’s it?” Loki spat. “That’s the only reason why right now, we’re sitting out here, in the middle of nowhere, looking at stars and talking about the past...is because you thought I needed to unwind?”

“I don’t think like you, Loki,” Thor said to him. “That’s what makes us different. I know I almost tried to kill you in the apartment and believe me, I wanted to. But I realized when I went out that maybe this was also my fault.” Loki’s brows fell. “I thought by putting you in the city, you might easily adjust to the Midgardian life as I know it. And yeah, I think you did…but maybe I overdid it a little.”

“I tried to kill you, Thor,” Loki repeated the damning clause for him. “And that wasn’t the first time I tried to do it, I have had that thought running in my head since the first week.” He shook his head. “You know, benevolence doesn’t save you. It just turns you into a fool and then a corpse.”

“Well,” Thor swung his head sideways, shrugging a little, “that’s how you’d put it. And let’s be real, there was never an occasion where you never tried to kill me but that was never your issue, was it?” he said, facing Loki’s confusion again. “When we were scaling Malnesberget, I saw that look in your eye. It was just the two of us against nature, just like this,” he spread his hand out to the earth beneath them, “and it was just the way you wanted it.”

“Two of us against the world.”

“You’ve always been a bit of a romantic, Loki.”

“Spare me,” Loki snorted, shaking his head as he gazed out to the stars. He would never let on, of course, that Thor was right—that had been the highlight of his trip. Two gods challenging Wild Midgard. Loki had almost fallen once when the rock gave under his hand. Thor had cried out in alarm but Loki only swung himself to another purchase. He’d smirked at his brother, and Thor had grinned at him. They were, he thought, at their element then.

“Well, isn’t that why you feel all cooped up here?” Thor persisted. “There’s no adventure, no songs, no glory. Everything’s just,” he threw his hand up, “TV this, shopping that. It’s not like in Asgard, and all the other seven realms.”

That wasn’t all there was to it, of course, but Loki would never confess that. “You like it here,” was all he said instead.

“Well yes,” Thor admitted, shrugging. “The people of Earth love me, of course I would love them back. But I think there’s more here than what I just said. Like there’s more to you than just being mischievous and stabby.” And that was not a joke although he’d said it like that. His smile had said otherwise, wide and bright, causing his eye to twinkle. The smile of a man who wore his heart on his sleeve. A fool.

Loki had thought he would never see it again, but now he just wanted to slash it off Thor’s face. It wasn’t that it irritated him but…

It was hard to look at it. He turned to the pond below them. At least that didn’t cause his heart to jump and burst.

“I know what I said in Sakaar, Loki,” Thor went on. “You _are_ you, and I _am_ me. And our paths have diverged long before but Loki,” Loki turned to the urgency in his voice, “this is _us_ now,” Thor said, looking into his brother’s round gazing eyes. “You know, whatever happened between us, in the past, it’s brought us here. At this very moment. And maybe you hate that, maybe that’s why you tried to kill me again. But you can’t keep doing that anymore. Stabbing doesn’t solve everything, Brother. We are all that we have left,” he shrugged, “and that’s just how it is now.”

Loki frowned. He opened his mouth to try and say something but his mind was a confusing haze of ideas, none of which wanted to go first. Meanwhile, the air cracked, and burst.

He turned in time to see stars falling, trailing smoke as another shot up and then another. One green, the next red, the one after that a bright gold.

Thor laughed like a boy watching his first fireworks show, turning its way, drinking his beer. “Just in time,” he said.

“You planned this, too?” Loki couldn’t believe it.

“Well no, but I was hoping for it.” Thor grinned. “It’s a bit tinier than what I was expecting,” they were, after all, not really close to civilization, “but it’s better than nothing.” Satisfied, he drank again.

Loki couldn’t even bring himself to enjoy the moment anymore. It was like the highs of navigating the mountain had fizzled out, like the fireworks as the last star faded. In the end, he could no longer keep his fears to himself.

“Are we dying?” he asked.


	29. Change

“What?” Thor mumbled, his brow pulled tight. 

Loki breathed, almost like a man drowning. “Is this all there is to it now?” he added with a desperation that was detectable in his voice and the wrinkle in his own brows. “Fireworks, nostalgia, cheap beer?” He swung his bottle to Thor, the object of his distress. “Is this how far we’ve fallen? Two gods, two _gods_ ,” he snarled, “reduced to the lives of mortal men. To toil and work as any other until the day we finally die? We used to be bigger than this, Thor! We,” he shifted closer to his brother who watched him closer still, containing the shakes of his excitement in his fists, “could _conquer_ this Earth if we put our minds to it. You could be King of Asgard _and_ Midgard, everyone,” his hands reached up to his king, “would fall all over themselves to kiss your feet. To fall on their knees before you.”

A vision, surely, worth smiling about—but Thor’s was bittersweet. Like an old king who has had too much of conquests. Like Odin. He laid a heavy hand on one of Loki’s, gripping it tight. Loki fastened his fingers around him with equal fervor—the definition of hope. “Brother,” Thor began with a chuckle, “you’ve always had your eyes set on power.”

“Power is all that we have, Thor,” Loki reminded him. “Without the thunder, without the storms, what are you? Just a good man, trying to make his way around the universe.” Thor shook his head, looking down. “You know, I’ve heard there are others who call Ragnarok the Twilight of the Gods, and now I think I know what they mean. In saving our people, you’ve left us with nothing,” Thor began to laugh, “and you, put me in that vault to cause it!” 

“Nothing?” Thor repeated, grinning, his eye sparkling like the waters under the moon. “You call _this_ nothing?” he asked, stretching his hand out to the fireworks. “Loki, we won! We survived, this is our new life!” 

“If it’s a life full of nothingness, then I reject it,” Loki hissed, pulling his hand free. 

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant,” Thor sputtered hastily, hands out to pacify his brother the viper but he was still laughing, and smiling and he was so bright that it hurt Loki to look at him, even though he couldn’t turn away. It was like looking at a distant star, thousands of lightyears away, so far to touch no matter how much he tried to reach it. “No, I wasn’t talking about…about peace, about settling down, about domesticity…but who says we can’t do all that?” he said to Loki, who looked back to him with a frown on his brows. “Who says we can’t do _more_ than that? Who says gods can only watch fireworks now, who says we’ll never be celebrated with fireworks anymore?” He waited for his brother to speak, but Loki was too enthralled by his brother’s words to come up with his own. He wanted only to listen. 

So Thor went on, his grin spreading wider. “Don’t you see?” he said. “We beat Ragnarok! Well,” Thor threw his hand in the air, “we caused it. Didn’t really stop it. But Twilight of the Gods?” He snorted. “Really? Fall of Asgard what? Loki, our people live! You and I live.” He grasped his brother’s hand again, distracting him briefly with the fast contact, “And if Ragnarok couldn’t stop us, what can?” 

What can, indeed? Perhaps there were several other factors they were yet to consider, but so what? They’d survived Ragnarok, they were living lives well past their time. Even the Goddess of Death could not say the same of herself. 

Or the others—those who fought for their people. Thor’s friends; but they were no longer here nor there. Loki could see it in his brother’s glow, which pulled him in as if he were a moth. It was that fire that he’d been scared to lose, that he loved so much, he would reignite it at the cost of his own life. That it was still there in spite of what it was put through gave Loki a great relief, and maybe that was what blinded him now. Maybe Thor was wrong and his words would one day come back to bite them but if that was so, then so be it. At least they would burn together, fighting to the last, and that seemed like as good an end as any Loki could come up with presently. 

“It’s not just power that we have, Loki,” Thor continued, looking closely into his eyes. “It’s not just ruling that we do either. By Odin’s beard, _we’re gods_. Who’s ever heard of stopping one?”

Loki’s brows flickered briefly. “Well,” the Frost Giant said after a pause, “I’m glad you asked.”

“Stop,” Thor warned him with a finger. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“Then don’t tempt me.”

“You know it’s not too late to learn some impulse control.” Thor gestured to the empty night, the fireworks by now long silent. “You’ve got a whole new life ahead of you.”

Loki smirked. “Well, maybe I’ve got other plans, too,” he said. 

Thor smiled back, then grinned when Loki grinned at him. His hand found its place on the back of Loki’s collar. 

And that made him smile wider still. For all that his neck was a ring of pain now, he would never reject his brother’s touch for it, not when he’d almost lost it because of his fear. “Maybe you’ll learn to trust me, finally,” Loki quipped. 

“Mmm,” Thor wrinkled his nose, “maybe I’ve also got other plans.” Loki rolled his eyes then as he snickered. He clapped him affectionately. “One step at a time, Brother.”

Loki issued no protest this time. Instead, he raised his beer and said, “To us.”

Thor agreed, following after him. They clinked their bottles, and drank to their new lives.


	30. Sleep

They had enough conversation to last them through the morning, but without any more beer, they didn’t see much of the point. 

“You should have brought more,” was Loki’s criticism as they picked their way down the cliff, electric torches lit up. “What’s the point of six bottles?” 

“I know, I know,” Thor said behind him with a dismissive air. He had also bemoaned that he neglected to pack some chips which was his favorite thing these days. “But considering we didn’t really plan this properly, I thought I did well!”

“If you’d have told me what we were coming out here for, I would have done better,” Loki argued as he turned to face his brother. 

“You,” Thor raised a finger at him, “didn’t deserve an explanation. That’s still on you.” He passed him, showing his back to his brother. That was him rejecting any more comebacks, Loki knew. 

So he didn’t chase him for them. He only shook his head, hiding his smirk from his brother. He might have acted poorly when he’d tried to kill his brother again, but it all turned out well, didn’t it? 

Thor stood by the lip of the pond, bracing his hands on his sides. The moon had swooped into their view now, tracing his outline with its light. Even as a silhouette, he really couldn’t help but look magnificent. “You want to see the sunrise tomorrow?” he asked Loki suddenly when he approached. 

He stood next to his brother, crossing his arms, facing the pond. “ _Can_ we see it from here?” he asked. 

“Well, I figured since we winged this part of the trip, we could wing that part, too,” Thor said. He turned to face Loki when Loki looked at him. “We did pretty well, didn’t we?” 

Loki wrinkled his brows. “Hm, let me think. There was barely a day’s preparation, a great lack of communication, with no concrete goal in sight…” Thor laughed, smiling handsomely as he listed down everything they did wrong. Ultimately, he did nod, and conceded, “Yeah. I guess we did pretty good. I mean we’re still alive. We’re not hungry, there’s water and fire,” he shrugged, “all thanks to me, that is.”

“Whatever,” Thor said. He looked down, then. 

Loki followed, watching him extract the knife from his belt to hold it up to the moon. It was shaped like a melting diamond—Loki’s preferred design. Raising it over his shoulder, he pitched it to the water. Loki swung towards its humble plop, gasping when it was already too late. “That was a perfectly good knife, Thor!” he cried, reaching for its absence. 

“Is it?” Thor grinned at him. “Don’t you just,” he twiddled his fingers, “magic it out of thin air?”

“Conjure. The proper term is conjure,” Loki corrected him, following him to their beds laid out on either side of the cold fire although really, they were just blankets and whatever they could spare from their packs to use as pillows. Just the way they would have done it on Asgard, although they would have probably done it differently if they’d had the foresight to buy some proper sleeping bags. “Just because it’s magic doesn’t mean it comes without a cost. You could’ve still used that!”

“Maybe,” Thor agreed, setting aside his boots as he sat on his bed. Smiling at Loki, he added, “But maybe I don’t need it anymore.” It was exactly what a fool would say, even though he may as well be a defenseless prey in the face of his predator. 

But perhaps this wasn’t foolishness anymore, but something else. Something short of faith, but something closer to boldness. Thor had always been a confident man, after all, to say the least. And maybe Thor just knew him better now than Loki cared to admit. 

He would miss the old idiot, he realized, who trusted so easily and was so fun to make fun of. This man would be harder to trick now, and harder still to kill, but that was fine. No fire, no storm, no mountain should have the right to go down so easily. 

Most especially not if he was to be his king, and his brother. 

“Get some rest,” Thor said, turning his back to Loki as he pulled his sheet up to his neck. “We’ve only got a few hours left before sunrise.”

Loki sat on his bed then, and considered his view. This would have been the perfect opportunity for him to strike his brother, out here in the middle of nowhere where he could bury or sink him, too. 

Only, the itch was gone. And when he did produce a knife, it was only so he could make it disappear again. He watched it blink and fade in his hand. He looked up to Thor, at his unguarded back, his bulk under his thin blanket. 

Not unguarded. Loki slipped between his sheets and laid his head on his pillow, eyes on his brother. Thor was right—he didn’t need a knife to protect him anymore. 

He had one watching his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've still got a day to go before the new year but the challenge ends here, so—happy new year to everyone!!! Thanks for staying with me through the entirety of the fic and may 2018 be kinder to us and the Odinsons! ❤️❤️❤️ #StopThanosFace2k18

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Echoes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14502540) by [seaofolives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaofolives/pseuds/seaofolives)




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